


hogwarts

by parkerprotectionprogram



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-06-14 11:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkerprotectionprogram/pseuds/parkerprotectionprogram
Summary: he deserved it.





	1. oppugno

**Author's Note:**

> w.c: 1919
> 
> pairing: gryffindor!peter parker x slytherin!reader
> 
> a.n: this is the first installment in my hogwarts!au series! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it!

Going to Hogwarts wasn’t all rainbows and sparkles. You were sure that for all its historical aesthetic, the school had as many problems as any other school, if even more. For crying out loud, you had a bathroom that was occupied by a crying dead girl. Madam Pomfrey was likely drowning in the number of injured students being sent to the Hospital Wing everyday. Your school sport involved flying at perilously great altitudes on a piece of wood and ducking hits from flying solid metal balls.  _No wonder the muggleborns all thought you were all on drugs._

Being a descendant of one of Britain’s smaller pureblood lines, you were quite used to most of this. You were no Malfoy or Black, but wizarding culture and etiquette had been instilled into you from a young age. The twenty first century where muggles had advanced to more efficient forms of communication -  _Telephones!_  - and yet your parents still saw the need for etiquette lessons.  _A lady does not gallop nor stomp, your governess’s words coming back to you, a lady glides with little effort, if any at all_. You were sure no one would notice if you walked with less grace, half the girls at school gave little thought to those small things. Still, image was important.

School. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite its questionable safety, you wouldn’t trade your education for that of Beauxbatons, no matter how beautiful the French students were (They’d come to visit once and you  _swore_  that half of them couldn’t be fully human. You were proven correct when it was revealed that most of them had veela blood). You were perfectly happy as you were. There would always be bumps ( _see: prejudice against your house_ ) but you were capable of handling them. Entering fifth year as the Slytherin house prefect, you knew you would have to tweak your routine with the additional responsibilities of patrolling on top of studying for OWLs and assignments.

And so you saved your studying for the breaks in between morning classes and after lunch on days when homework was assigned. Your spot in the library was, in your humble opinion, the best place to study. Tucked away from the library entrance where students came and went, you were safely away from any distractions. The window over the desk was high enough that sunlight filtered in through the glass without a view to distract you. On days you finished early, you’d settle back into the chair you’d charmed for comfort and bury yourself in a novel. Hogwarts has little to offer for literature and Madam Pince seemed to agree with your sentiment when you’d told her back in third year. So you had to settle with asking your mother to owl new books.

The library was quieter in the mornings, and allowed you to get more work done in the short break between classes than you would in the afternoon. You made the most of this time. On the rare occasions your attention wavered, you’d let your gaze wander around the area and quietly observe the few students scattered around you. On one such day you noted a newer presence and interest piqued, you recognised him as a fellow fifth year.

He was in Gryffindor, the red and gold on his robes standing out boldly. He had a head of brown hair, slightly gelled and few strands falling into his face. He didn’t favour the shorter haircut you’d often seen on other boys, hair reaching just below his ears. His eyes were attentive and downcast, focusing on the textbooks and parchment in front of him. What struck you most interestingly, was the plastic pen he twirled absentmindedly between his fingers. He looked vaguely familiar, so you assumed he shared one or more of your classes. He looked like the Arithmancy type, you’d make sure to check when you next had Professor Vector. When you looked closer, though, you noted the tension in his shoulders and jaw. He looked as though he expected some sort of an attack. Your eyes narrowed then, wondering who he was hiding from.

Fortunately for him, no such incidents occurred over the next week. He’d come in and sit  sometimes with a friend, a Filipino boy from Hufflepuff with a cheerful disposition. You found the dynamics of their friendship endearing, the brown haired Gryffindor becoming exponentially less guarded around him. He smiled a lot more, too, and Merlin was it a cute smile. All this was reported to your friend Della Nott who, with every new account, became increasingly amused. She sat with you once and upon seeing his face, turned to you.

“That’s Peter Parker,” she’d told you in a hushed voice. You stared at her quizzically, not understanding. On the other hand, you were pleased to finally know his name. It was a nice name, simple and not extravagant. No constellation name like the Malfoys or Blacks had done in the past.

“He’s muggleborn,” she noted. At that your eyebrow raised, waiting for the further elaboration that followed. “You know Flash Thompson?”

 _Flash Thompson_. Who  _didn’t_  know that name? He was a running joke in Slytherin house. He was smart, it had to be said, but most found that his pompous attitude trumped his intelligence. You found him deplorable and insufferable and had only talked to him once or twice.

“What does he have to do with Parker?” you asked, gathering your books and packing your bag. As the two of you stood and made your way out of the library, she murmured,

“He’s sort of a bully, Thompson. I heard from Pucey that Parker’s always on the receiving end of it.”

You scoffed. “Thompson’s pathetic. Does he not stand up for himself?”

She shook her head and arriving at your next class, you found all thoughts of Parker and Thompson receding to the back of your mind.

It was only two days later when those thoughts made a reappearance, with the arrival of Flash Thompson to your secluded wing of the library. Parker’s knuckles were white as he clutched the textbook in front of him. Thompson rounded the bookshelf and his face lit up gleefully as he strolled over to where Peter was, leaning on the table as he drawled. You looked up from your book, face twisting in displeasure as you took in the sight before you. Not wanting to draw any attention, you bent your head back down but listened carefully.

“C’mon Parker, why are you hiding away in the library? Exams aren’t for ages,” Thompson droned, picking up Peter’s notebook and leaving through it carelessly.

“H-Hey give that back, Flash,” the boy protested, reaching for it only for Thompson to hold it out of reach.

“What, is this your diary, Parker? Hm, I wonder who you write about in here. Is it her? What about that one? She’s way out of your league though man, and Slytherin too.  _Dear diary, today I sat across from this girl and she didn’t pay any attention to me because I’m a loser_ ,” he teased.

You flicked your wand, murmuring a spell and placed your belongings neatly in your bag. Standing up, you didn’t bother to be discreet as your chair scraped against the wooden floor, halting both boys’ exchange and prompting their heads to turn to you as you approached, school shoes silent on the hardwood.

“Parker,” you greeted politely and turned to the other boy. “Thompson.”

The dismissive tone you used brought an embarrassed scowl to his lips and he slouched, less sure of himself. You regarded him steadily, unimpressed until he averted his gaze to the floor. It was then that you turned to Peter, less severe and asked in a casual tone,

“Is everything alright?”

His eyes widened a fraction and he nodded fervently, gesturing with his hands to assure you.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, we’re fine. He was, um, just asking me about, y’know, homework.”

“Really?” you asked, eyes flitting to Flash. “So that isn’t your book in his hands?”

He stayed quiet, unsure how to respond and you got the feeling he didn’t want to get Flash in trouble but he was torn between letting the taunts continue. You could almost feel the anxiety radiating off him. Resisting the urge to lay a reassuring hand on his arm, you directed your attention to Flash Thompson who it seemed, was recovering from the blow to his confidence.

“Please return that book to Parker here before I’m forced to take points,” you suggested, a sugary sweet smile pulling the corners of your mouth upwards. Flash pulled himself up to his full height and grinned right back at you, mockingly.

“Don’t be so uptight, Y/L/N, it’s not that deep. Besides,” he leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially and you fought back the urge to push him out of your personal space, “he’s just a loser, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head over someone like him.”

It happened so fast. Peter’s face reddened. Your smile dropped. Your wand was in your hand.

“Oppugno.”

* * *

Professor McGonagall stared at you from where you were sat in front of her desk. You sat on the chair, meeting her gaze and unwilling to back down. Looking down at the paper in front of her and then back up at you exasperatedly, she asked,

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, child? Perhaps an explanation as to why you _jinxed library books to attack Mr Thompson?_ ”

“With all due respect, Headmistress, he deserved it” you said boldly. “He was harassing another student.”

“That does  _not_  justify physical retribution,” she very nearly snapped and you wisely chose to stay quiet. She rubbed her temples and sighed. “You’ll serve two nights of detention in the library.”

“Yes, Headmistress.”

“You may leave,” she said, nodding at you and you returned it, standing up.

When you rounded the corner of the hallway to her office, you managed to just sidestep and avoid careening into Peter Parker himself.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he apologised earnestly and you shook your head, stepping to the side of the corridor.

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him.

“You just came from McGonagall’s office, right?” he asked and you nodded, smoothing your uniform down.

“Yeah, she gave me two nights’ worth of detention,” you informed him. “I was rather lucky, I think. I suppose she doesn’t like Thompson either.”

He laughed softly before he sobered up and looked at you. “About that. I just wanted to thank you for um, defending me.”

You regarded him steadily, prompting a flush to settle over his cheeks and tint his ears red. You supposed he was unused to being defended, which didn’t sit right with you. Slytherins, despite their bad rep, tended to look out for one another and  _never_ showed anything but a united front in front of the rest of the school. That Flash Thompson would openly bully a fellow housemate just wasn’t  _right_. Realising Peter was becoming uncomfortable, you gave him the barest hint of a smile, shaking your head.

“Don’t worry about it, Parker, seriously.” Looking at your wristwatch, you noted the time. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around. Bye.”

And you were headed off. Unbeknownst to you, you’d left a stunned Peter Parker staring after you.

“Bye,” he murmured, cheeks still warm. It took a second before he shook his head and smiling, began walking the other way.

_May would want to hear about this._

 

 

 


	2. vulnera sanentur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the two of you work well together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w.c: 1612
> 
> warnings: blood
> 
> pairing: gryffindor!peter parker x slytherin!reader

You wake up in a bad mood. You haven’t any idea the reason behind your figurative dark cloud, just knowing that it causes you to snap at Della’s boyfriend, Markus, at breakfast when he teases you lightly about the scowl that mars your features. It takes both you and Markus by surprise, as the two of you generally get along quite well. He’d said something along the lines of,

“You know, Y/N, your resting face is always scary but you might want to tone down the whole ‘dark sorcerer’ thing you’ve got going on.”

In a moment of irritation blown out of proportion, you’d snapped in response (quite nastily), “Why don’t you just shut your mouth, Markus.”

You’re shocked at yourself and how quickly things had taken a turn. Mortified, you turn to him and apologise sincerely.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” you murmur and he nods, waving a hand dismissively but not before scrutinising you carefully, eyes concerned. You force yourself not to fidget under his and Della’s inspection, instead giving them a contrite smile and helping yourself to breakfast. They let it go but you catch Della’s glances throughout breakfast and are more than thankful when the bell rings, signalling the end of breakfast.

The day passes slowly and finally evening draws near, with you in less of a bad mood. As you head to Potions, your temper simmers down and you file into the dungeons chatting quietly with Della about the Weird Sisters concert the two of you plan to attend during Easter break. Professor Slughorn quickly puts an end to that conversation and the two of you meet each other’s eyes, grinning when he clasps his hands and beams at the class. The board at the front is inscribed with the method and ingredients required for the potion you’ll be preparing today.

“The Draught of Peace,” he announces, eyes bright. “Can anyone tell me the purpose of this potion?”

You stay quiet, looking around the class and seeing that no hands are raised, you make to answer but before your hand lifts, Professor Slughorn calls out,

“Mr Parker!”

Your eyes dart to the boy, not having noticed his presence. He looks a little unsure with all eyes on him but proceeds to answer in a mostly unwavering voice,

“It’s supposed to calm anxiety, sir.”

“Indeed it is, Mr Parker. I believe Madame Pomfrey administers this very potion quite regularly to OWL students,” Professor Slughorn chuckles. You quirk an eyebrow, not quite understanding his humour, but forget it as he continues. “I’ve taken the liberty of assigning each of you your partner for this potion-”

He’s cut off by protests from some of the bolder Gryffindors and quiet groans amongst the Slytherins. You stay quiet but eye Tristan Macmillan distastefully, the boy unabashedly making a scene, and hope your partner is at the very least  _half_ competent. Slughorn shushes the class and proceeds to read out from a list in his hands,

“Leeds and Nott.”

Peter’s friend eyes Della nervously until she nods politely at him, setting him at ease. You want to giggle but refrain, listening to hear the name of your partner.

“Flint and Macmillan.”

You watch as both boys scowl at each other, clearly displeased with Slughorn’s choice.

“Y/L/N and Parker.”

You stop listening after that as Slughorn goes through the rest of the class and make your way over to Peter’s station. Discarding your outer robes you roll the sleeves of your blouse up, having foregone your jumper that morning.

“Hi Partner,” He says and shoots you a friendly grin, to which you respond with a small smile, eyes on the board as Professor Slughorn goes through the method and basic aspects of the potion.

Peter stands next to you, leaning slightly against the worktop and you’re unsure whether he means to stand so close but ever so often his robes brush against yours. You resolve to leave it alone, focusing on the teacher. Or you would, except Peter bends his head closer to yours and murmurs, making you tilt your head in his direction.

“I bet when exams come around we’ll all need a supply of these, huh?”

You fight back a smile but he sees your lips twitch and proceeds to keep up a steady stream of jokes and remarks at points Professor Slughorn makes, making it increasingly harder to keep a straight face. It’s only when you fear you’re going to burst out laughing do you grab his wrist and squeeze warningly. He falters in the middle of his joke and you smirk triumphantly, keeping your eyes on the board.

Letting go, you focus your attention to your notes and start writing. It’s only after a couple of seconds do you realise how quiet Peter has been and you brave a look at him only to find the boy has turned red. You stifle a giggle. He’s lucky the fires have already been lit under the cauldrons in the classroom, the air near sweltering enough for him to blame his flushed appearance on the heat. You, however, know better.

Professor Slughorn claps his hands together, instructing everyone to get on with their potions and you remark to yourself that the overly jolly man is fortuitous Potions lessons are always a double, otherwise his droning might not leave you enough time to actually get to the potion.

“Okay, Parker,” you drawl, drawing your textbook closer to you, “We’ll split up the ingredients and prepare our halves before we start actually making the potion. Sound alright?”

You look at him expectantly and he nods.

“Yeah, sounds fine. You take this half and I’ll take this?” He says, gesturing to the list. You nod, pleased, and the two of you make your way to the supply closet. You’re even more pleased when you find the two of you work well together. You’re able to prepare everything in record time, weaving around each other to retrieve materials and discussing the potion. It’s only when you’re adding the drops of hellebore and bottling the potion, sending him a satisfied smile when Professor Slughorn commends the two of you on your work, does everything go south.

You knew Macmillan was brash and didn’t think, but you’d hoped Flint would at least maintain a modicum of decency in a classroom. You were proven wrong. The two of them start to argue just as you’re returning from Slughorn’s desk and Macmillan, anger fueled by Flint’s retorts, pushes at the latter. Flint staggers backwards into you and you end up being thrown quite off balance. Your hand falls to the table by you, trying to regain your composure, only to feel a sharp pain. Embarrassingly enough, everyone falls silent when you cry out, holding your now bleeding hand.

The gash isn’t too deep but you still feel your eyes well up and cast a tearful glance at Professor Slughorn. He looks shocked and exclaims,

“Mr Parker, will you please escort your partner to Madame Pomfrey.” Looking at you kindly, he then adds, “As you have already finished your potion, you just rest there, dear.”

Peter quickly makes to collect your belongings but Della pipes up and worriedly looking at you, assures him she’ll get your things. He nods and takes your elbow gently, following you out of the classroom.

“Are you okay?” he asks and then winces. “Sorry, you’re obviously not.”

You sniff and manage a short laugh, “I’ll be fine. I’m lucky someone’s potion didn’t explode, really.”

He smiles and nods at that. “That’s true.”  
You curse when a tear rolls down your cheek, and make to wipe it away with your free hand. You look up at Peter, embarrassed but his face is void of any teasing. He gives you a sympathetic smile, setting you at ease.

Once you reach Madame Pomfrey, she tuts disapprovingly at the sight of your tear streaked face and shakes her head when you explain what happened. She pats your shoulder comfortingly and waves her wand over your cut once and then twice. The blood disappears first and then you watch in curiosity as the wound closes up.

“It’s a basic spell to get rid of the blood, dear, Tergeo, and you cast your wand like so,” she says and shows you. “And then Vulnera Sanentur to heal it.”

All the while, Peter is by your side, eyes inquisitive and presence supportive. When the two of you are free to leave, you turn to him as you walk out of the Hospital Wing and say,

“Thanks Parker.”

He gives you a kind smile and nods, echoing your words from your last encounter back at you, “Don’t worry about it.”

You scoff but a smile still remains on your lips. You take a step towards him, grin turning impish. He turns red once more, confident air vanishing.

“By the way, Parker,” you breathe out, standing toe to toe with him.

“Y-Yeah?” He stammers, visibly nervous.

“If you tell anyone you saw me cry, I will hurt you,” you finish casually, beaming at him.

He stares at you for a moment before sagging in relief and and laughing.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he assures you.

“That’s good,” you say, taking a few steps backwards and turning, calling over your shoulder as you walk away, “you have a nice face and I’d hate to ruin it.”

He laughs as he watches you walk away, realising it’s the second time you’ve left him staring after you.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Peter grins and makes his way back to class.

 _Ned’s going to flip when he hears this._  


	3. lumos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a sleepless night leads you to the astronomy tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w.c: 1695
> 
> pairing: gryffindor!peter parker x slytherin!reader
> 
> a.n: because sometimes you just can’t sleep. as always, feedback is adored and appreciated!

It’s a Sunday night when sleep decides to avoid you. This was a common occurrence. There were nights you would spend tossing and turning until your neatly pressed blankets were a rumpled mess and your hair splayed against the pillow as you stared up at the canopy of your bed, eyelids drooping in exhaustion. This was one of those nights. Your eyes hurt as you close them once more, wishing for sleep. The pillow seems too large for your head, the blankets weighing you down uncomfortably. Sighing, you sit up and draw open the curtains, slipping out of bed. You pull on your robe and tuck your wand into the pocket, putting on your slippers.

You were careful not to disturb the rest of the dormitory as you duck outside. When you cast a Tempus charm, you find that it’s 2:32 am and a sigh leaves your lips as you realise how fatigued you’ll be in the morning. You wonder if Della still has those vials of Invigoration Draughts. You’d certainly need one after tonight’s lack of sleep. Merlin, what if you fell asleep in the middle of Transfiguration, or worse Potions? The common room is silent and dark and you briefly pause to gaze out the window showing the depths of the Great Lake but quickly move along, uneasy at the eeriness of the view.

Casting a soft, “Lumos.” you leave the Slytherin common room, slippers making little noise against the floor. You head up and out of the dungeons, taking in the tapestries and portraits that decorate the walls as best you can by wandlight. You end up on the second floor, admiring the way the moonlight streams in through the windows. This prompts a terrible idea to form in your mind and your feet soon lead you to the Astronomy tower. It’s a bit of a climb and leaves your heart racing once you reach the top but you suddenly find yourself unable to care.

You look down, leaning against the ridge of the tower, and take it all in. You have a perfect view of the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest. The world in that moment is ever so still, bathed in silvery moonlight. And then you direct your gaze upwards, to the sky. The night sky at Hogwarts had always been beautiful, even more so with tonight’s clear sky. The stars were bright against the night sky, so similar to a bolt of pure black cloth. Lost in your thoughts, you don’t realise you’re no longer alone until you hear a scuffle by the door and freeze, ice shooting through your veins. What if it’s a teacher? What if it isn’t? Your hand slides into your pocket, fingers curling around the hilt of your wand. Oh Merlin, what was that spell Father had taught you? Counting down silently, you whip around, wand out only for the curse on your lips to die as you’re greeted with the sight of Peter bloody Parker. All too well, you suppose. You doubt he’d approve of the darker nature of the spell.

“Bloody hell, Parker. Don’t sneak up on a Slytherin like that,” you breathe out, bringing a hand to your forehead.

He offers you a tired shrug and mutters an apology. You roll your eyes, trying to calm your racing heart. After a moment, you look over at him and take in his ruffled hair and wrinkled pyjamas. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, trying to hold back a laugh at the sigh of him and ask,

“Can’t sleep, Parker?”

Your attempt is in vain effort because you have to clap your hands over your mouth to stifle the giggles when he smiles sleepily at you, holding up his unfinished Astronomy homework. He makes his way to one of the telescopes and tells you,

“I was asleep, until I realised I had homework and Sinistra’s probably going to give me detention with Filch if I don’t finish.” He looked through the telescope lens.

“She is in a rather foul mood,” you agree and walk over, taking a look at his homework. “Do you plan on continuing after OWLs?”

“Uhh, I don’t think so,” he replies distractedly, writing on the piece of parchment. You peer over his shoulder, reading what he’s written. He seems to have finished, waiting for your verdict and when you’re done, you look up at him.

“You don’t have to hand it in until Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah,” he trails off. You nod and hold your hand out for the quill, which he hands to you.

“I think you might’ve misheard her, Parker. See, here you wrote that Europa is the fifth closest to Jupiter but it’s actually sixth. Also, you still have space left, you might want to include that it’s the smallest of the four Galilean moons that orbit Jupiter,” you tell him.

The next few minutes pass this way, you suggesting additions he could make. The two of you have gravitated to beside the door, sitting on the floor. You don’t comment on how his shoulders brush against yours ever so slightly. When he’s finished with his essay and waits for the ink to dry, he looks over at you and comments,

“So why are you up here? Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum in affirmation, nodding your head. Turning your head to meet his eyes, you tell him, “It happens sometimes. I just can’t sleep.”

“Do you want me to keep you company?”

The question startles you and you take a moment to process what he’s just said before nodding, almost shyly.

“That’d be nice.”

You pass the time by talking about whatever comes to mind. He tells you about how before he knew he was a wizard, he’d scared his Aunt May half to death by making his carpet fly with him still on it after watching Aladdin. When you inform him you had little experience with Muggle movies, much less the franchise he called Disney, he looks horrified.

“How can you never have watched Aladdin? Or any Disney movie?” he presses, making you sheepishly shrug.

“Magic and Muggle technology - like those computers you use - never work well together,” you explain. “I doubt you could get one into Hogwarts without completely frying it. All the magic would render it useless. It’s why we’re all so archaic in everything we do.”

He shakes his head morosely and you shove him playfully. You tell him about your mother’s time at Hogwarts and her parents before her. In your sleep deprived state, you’re looser with your words, and he notices. You’re less guarded about what you say and how you act, proven by when you start giggling about something.

“Did you know my mother was in Slytherin, too?” you tell him and he shakes his head, leaning forward to hear this.

“Well she was, and she was a couple of years above of Harry Potter,” you say and begin to laugh. “But also, and more importantly, Draco Malfoy. She told me once that he used to talk ever so loudly in the common room about how he was named after a star and that Draco in latin meant ‘dragon’. She says that it was tradition in his mother’s family to name their children after the stars.”

“Really?” he asks and you nod, eyes wide.

“His mother was Narcissa Black, and her sisters Bellatrix and Andromeda. They were cousins to Harry Potter’s godfather Sirius Black, you know. Purebloods married within their extended family a lot of the time, that’s why we’re all related to each other.”

You laugh when he wrinkles his nose at that but continue in a disgusted voice, “You know that means that somewhere along the lines, I might be related to Flint.”

“Gross,” he mutters and you hum in agreement.

“I’d never make it a tradition to name my kids after the stars,” you tell him. “Wizarding names are complicated enough without having to limit it to Astronomy.”

Suddenly you start to laugh and turn to fully face him, hand on his arm. “Imagine if you ran out of options and had to name your kid something like Vulpecula.”

His lips curve upwards into a smile and he begins to stand up, brushing the dust off his pants. Holding out his hand, he jerks his head to the door.

“Come on, I think it’s time for bed.”

You pout slightly but take it and pull yourself up, stumbling slightly before you steady yourself. He walks you down to the dungeons, lighting the way with a softly murmured,

“Lumos.”

When you reach the Slytherin common rooms you drop his hand and give him a shy smile, unaware you’d been holding it the entire time. Judging by the warmth in his cheeks, he hadn’t either.

“Goodnight, Parker. Thanks for keeping me company,” you murmur. He smiles softly at you in response.

“It was fun. Night, Y/L/N.”

And with that, he turns around and soon slips into the shadows as he makes his way out of the dungeons. When you return back to your dorm room and fall back on bed, sleep comes easily.

Bonus content:

The shadows under Peter’s eyes are visible from the Slytherin table at breakfast and prompt a twinge of guilt in you and looking down at Della’s last vial of Invigoration Draught and back up at him, you sigh. Fishing out a piece of spare parchment, a quill and ink, you quickly write a note, sticking it to the vial. You wave your wand under the table and lean back in satisfaction as the vial disappears.

Peter rests his head against the table, eyes closed in vain hopes of getting some rest before classes. He groans when Ned nudges him but quickly fall silent when his best friend says,

“There’s a note here for you, Peter.”

He picks his head up and finds a small vial of a bright blue potion next to his plate. Picking it up, he scans the note and a smile growing on his lips, uncorks it.

Parker, as a thank you and apology for your lack of sleep, this should give you a boost for today.


	4. ordinary wizarding levels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s terribly hard to be a perfect pureblood princess when you fail your arithmancy test

You had been told your whole life you were perfect. The perfect, pureblood princess. The perfect child. The perfect student. Your mother’s friends had gushed over your manners and poise. You were your father’s pride and joy, his precious child. Your governess had adored your ability to absorb everything she taught you and even  _McGonagall_ , who harboured some bias against the Slytherins, had commended your wand work. Your hair would always be neatly styled, never a strand out of place and nails clean and coated in clear polish. Sometimes you found yourself bitter at this. Everyone had their own problems, of course. But they were free of the responsibilities that came with this life. The little step out of place and your family would be  _ruined_. The constant eyes on you, waiting and watching to see you finally slip up. You supposed those people didn’t think you noticed. But you did. And every time, you had to hold your head high despite the whispers and probing stares.

Now in fifth year, you’ve dealt with it for long enough you’ve almost become used to it.  _Almost_. Like your sleepless nights, days would come around when almost everything was too much to handle. These would come after days of continuously bottling everything up, holding your head up and turning the other cheek to everything. These were the days you’d end up seeking Della out. She’d tell you the same thing, that  _it wasn’t easy being perfect_.

“You need to understand it’s okay, being upset,” she’d tell you, arm around you comfortingly.

It became a mantra of sorts. A mantra which these days, you begin to repeat rather frequently. With OWLs nearing, the teachers begin to pile on the coursework and prep tests. The library becomes increasingly packed, forcing you to cast sound proofing spells. Patrols take a length of time out of your nights and often leave you restless instead of tired, affecting your sleep schedule. With the teachers pressing the importance of the OWLs, your anxiety about the exams grows.

Today, Friday, you receive the final blow to your confidence. You receive your Arithmancy test back and to your absolute horror, it’s marked with a red ‘P’ for Poor.  _Poor_. You’d  _failed_. You stare at the sheaf of parchment in shock, remembering how you’d studied the whole week prior for that test. The feeling is equivalent to that of a slap in the face, or even a stunner to the chest, which you’ve heard is  _painful_. In any case, you’re utterly  _devastated_. You can feel the stirrings of sadness in your chest and breathe in deeply, trying to blink away the tears that have started to form. The bell rings for the next class and you tuck the test into your bag, mask thrown back up to hide your agitation. You manage to hold it together for the rest of the day, though you notice the concern in Della’s eyes when she converses with you during Transfiguration. You block everything out, not wanting to completely fall apart in the middle of a class.  _It was bad enough failing that test, you didn’t need people talking even more about you. Father would probably send a letter if word got back to him. You didn’t need that._

The day drags on despite it still being early, as it tends to when you’re upset, and you find it increasingly hard  _not_  to create a spectacle of yourself. Already upset, you’re further angered when one of the Ravenclaw girls makes a snide, holier-than-thou comment under her breath to her friend, who looks you up and down before giggling behind her hand in a display of faux demurity and you almost lunge at her if it isn’t for Della’s fingers tightly wrapped around your wrist. You turn to your friend, eyes alight and mutter angrily,

“I could  _ruin_  her life, the little coward. And her friend. She’s no more proper than Macmillan.”

“And right now, you’re acting as impulsive as that stupid boy,” she hisses. “She has the upper hand, y/n. If you attack her out of nowhere think about how that’d look.”

She meets your glare unrelentingly until you’re forced to exhale and shake your head, a bitter taste in your mouth.

“One day,” you say, “they’ll be sorry. I could make sure they rise no higher than a lowly receptionist.”

She pats your shoulder comfortingly and you return to class, exercising the grip on your control which is quickly unravelling. After lunch you retreat to the library, shoulders practically aching from all the tension you’ve been holding in. You all but fall into your chair, closing your eyes and hoping that for once life goes your way and no one will bother you. On a regular day this is a simple request and generally goes granted but because you’re in a state of distress and life works in ways you  _cannot for the love of Merlin_  figure out, it throws a curveball your way which just so happens to be in the form of Peter Parker, who you’ve come to regularly study with.

“Hey, y/l/n, you okay?”

You force a smile to your lips and nod, gesturing for him to take a seat. He sits across you at the table, hair falling into his eyes as he digs through his backpack. When he looks back up, he has a pile of flashcards in his hand.

“Transfiguration today?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah, McGonagall had us go over some stuff today,” he explained. “Do you want me to test you first?”

“Alright, Parker.”

“First principal to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration?” he asks, peering at you over the cards.

“That’s easy enough, food cannot be outright created from nothing. You can multiply it if you already have some, summon it if you know the approximate location, but never create it. This doesn’t include water or general consumable liquids, though,” you answer.

“Correct. Four branches of Transfiguration?”

“Transfiguration, Untransfiguration, Vanishment and Switching,” you answer, hesitating at the end.

“You got three right, but Switching is more of a sub-branch,” Peter explains. “It’s Transfiguration, Untransfiguration, Vanishment and Conjuration.”

You nod, trying not to berate yourself over the simple mistake, and continue. The only problem is, you keep getting questions wrong and it’s not until you incorrectly answer a question to which the answer you learned back in third year, does Peter set the cards aside and look at you. You’ve become increasingly frazzled and your distress from earlier has returned, leaving you on the verge of frustrated tears.

“Are you okay, y/n? You seem, I dunno, kind of out of it.”

That’s all it takes to set you off. A simple question. When all day you’ve been hit from all sides, it only takes a few words to break you down. You look at him to assure him again that you’re okay, that you’re just having an off day (to the extent of which he does  _not_  need to know) but to your horror, your face crumples up and you find yourself starting to cry. You bring your hands to your face, trying to hide the hot tears that are making their way down your cheeks and rendering you an utter mess, but it’s to no avail because Peter leaves his chair to come around the table, crouching beside you. In a moment of panic and  _oh my god what do I do_  he curls his fingers around your wrists lightly, trying to tug them away from your face.

“Hey, hey, look at me, what’s wrong?” he asks, tucking your hair back. You sniffle, wiping your eyes and offer him a trembling smile that breaks his heart because you look so tired and sad. He leans in to take your hand, rubbing comforting circles into your skin as you mutter an apology.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, shaking his head fervently to assure you it’s okay. “We’re friends aren’t we? C’mon, you can talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You smile at that, the term giving you a warm feeling. Shaking your head, you just lets the words spill from your lips.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, “It’s just been a long week and I haven’t been getting sleep because patrols are messing with my sleep schedule and then I got a ‘P’ on my Arithmancy test even though I studied for a week for it and then this stupid girl from Ravenclaw said something under her breath at me and I’m just so tired of it all, I feel like I’m the biggest failure ever and everyone keeps talking about OWLs and I’m so  _terrified_  of failing.”

All through this, he’s rubbing circles on your back comfortingly and then you turn to him in your chair, eyes shining again and whisper tremulously,

“I don’t want to fail, I can’t afford to.”

Tearing up again, you try your best to contain your irregular breaths but end up crying again. Peter sighs and leans up to hug you, wrapping his arms gently around your trembling frame. You lean into his touch, crying quietly into his shoulder, soft hiccupping sobs. His fingers rub circles into your back through the fabric of your school blouse as he makes appropriate noises of consolation. The stress of the last couple of weeks seems to slowly wash away and when you find you can cry no more, you appreciate it when Peter doesn’t let go, continuing to rub your back soothingly. You stay in his arms, calming yourself down and only pull away when your breathing evens out. Wiping your eyes, you take a few breaths.

Peter keeps his hand on your back as he looks at you, eyes soft and alight with kindness. He looks at you as if he’s ready to steady you again.

“You okay?” he murmurs and you nod. He reaches for your hand, softly squeezing it.

“You’re not going to fail, you know,” he says and you shrug, making him shake his head. “No, really. You’re brilliant, y/n. Those Ravenclaw girls were just jealous you’re the brightest in our year. And that grade?  _It doesn’t define you_. If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll go over it together and see what happened.”

“You know, apart from Della, you’re the only other person here who’s seen me cry,” you say, changing the topic, but he sees the bashful smile you try to hide. He grins at that, getting up and leaning against the window.

“Second time now, isn’t it?” he teases lightly, and you roll your eyes, aiming a kick in his direction. “You feeling any better?”

You take a moment to think and find that you’re no longer as tightly wound, all the stress and hurt from today practically having disappeared.

“I really am,” you say softly, looking up at him with a small smile. “Thank you, Peter.”

He shrugs.

“We’re friends,” he says simply. You hum in agreement, and begin to pack your things away, looking back at him.

“C’mon,” you tell him. “Let’s go down to the lake before classes. We can go over my test there. I’d like some fresh air for a change.”

You flick your wand and his backpack is packed once more. The moment he slings it over his shoulder, you grab his hand and lead him out of the library. Your laughter echoes in the hallway as you head for the main entrance, not once letting go of his hand.

It’s only when you go to bed later that night that you realise he’d called you by your first name. You don’t admit to yourself that it gives you a warm feeling.  _It doesn’t_.


	5. hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> della and ned get involved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w.c: 1592
> 
> a.n: feedback, loves, is very important! i hope you like this fic and if you do, please don’t be shy to let me know

As the year dwindles by along with the approach of exam season, the student body breathes a collective sigh stress induced panic, setting aside all thoughts of relaxation aside in favour of cooping up in the library. You find yourself amongst those on the grounds in between classes. With the approach of exams and rapidly filling library, you need somewhere quiet to study, and what better place than on the nearly empty grounds? You find something relaxing about the warm summer air, not too hot or humid, and the air carries a sweet smell, which allows you to focus on studying.

On days when motivation runs low and you need a break, you drag Della and Markus along with you to meet Peter and his friend, who you’d come to know as Ned Leeds, by the Lake. Having begun to see more of Peter, you assume it’s only proper to introduce him to your friends to avoid any awkwardness. The two of you had had a conversation about it and he’d agreed. You’d already become acquainted with Ned, after all. However, you’d voiced your concern to Peter about Della and Markus meeting  _Ned_.

_“Della likes you enough, and Markus is pretty agreeable, but I’m just worried they’ll come off intimidating to Ned,” you had murmured, meeting Peter’s bright eyes. He’d shaken his head dismissively._

_“He’ll be alright,” he’d reassured you._

Della and Markus take to Ned surprisingly well, amiably discussing their thoughts on the exams. Markus even goes so far as to invite both Peter and Ned to watch a Quidditch match with him over the summer. You’re pleased and relieved even if you’re not getting much done in the way of work, part of you irrationally fearing they’d scare Peter off. Watching the group converse, a thought crosses your mind which you promptly pretend not to have thought.  _You wanted Peter in your life._

The Giant Squid pokes a tentacle out at that point, any thoughts of Peter sticking around long-term dissipating as you giggle when Peter gets splashed at. His hair sticks to his face and you figure he looks rather like a soaked puppy, when he tilts his head and pouts slightly.

“Here,” you say, still laughing, and cast a drying spell over him.

Della watches the two of you interact, a glint in her eyes. When you playfully shove him and he falls back onto the grass, she hides a grin. Turning to Markus and Ned, she leans in and drops her voice considerably to remark to them in a conspiring tone,

“How long do you suppose it’s going to take before they kiss?”

Ned grins. “Peter and Y/N? He’s been talking about her since forever and ever since they became friends, he hasn’t stopped.”

Della bites back a triumphant squeal.  _So it’s not unrequited at least_. Markus raises an eyebrow and raises his hands, shaking his head when she turns her gaze on him.

“No, love. Absolutely not. I’m not meddling in Y/N’s  _love life_ and neither should you,  _either_  of you,” he says in a scolding hiss. Della simply shares a look with Ned before she grins impishly up at him and he sighs. “But you’re going to, either way. Don’t mess it up for them, Dell. They like each other.”

She rolls her eyes at him, giving him a pointed look. “Well if I ruined it for them that wouldn’t serve the purpose, now would it? Really, Markus,” she says teasingly, “keep up.”

“Ruined what for who?” you ask curiously, Peter joining you staring at the three of them. Ned grins brightly and Della and Markus’ faces give nothing away.

“Never you mind, love,” Della replies. You frown at her but return to the conversation you’d been having with Peter, who hasn’t let up on your shocking inexperience in Muggle pop culture. Specifically that enterprise he called Disney. You almost regret telling him you’d never watched a single one of the movies.  _Almost_.

“The thing is, Peter, my home is probably still full of enough magic to fry, erm, what was it called? A TV. So even if I managed to get ahold of one, it wouldn’t work at home.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Peter says, determined. You tilt your head to regard him, and smile softly, finding his reverence for the franchise endearing.

“If you say so.”

* * *

Della and Ned meet later, Markus not budging on refusing to take part in ‘meddling in other people’s lives’, and discuss the plan. They’ll do whatever it takes to speed up the process of getting their two best friends together.

“But we must be subtle,” Della cautions, receiving a serious nod in return. “We have a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. I say we try our luck there.”

Della all but forces you to leave the dorm room for this weekend, insisting you need a break from the studying. You go along with it.  _What’s the worst that could happen?_ Oblivious to your best friend’s scheme, you let her pick out your clothes. She fusses over your every detail and its only when you remind her of the time does she relent.

“You’re worse than Mother,” you remark as the two of you make your way up and out of the dungeons to meet Markus by the carriages. Just as you settle in the carriages, Della sticks her head out of the window, and calls out. You regard her curiously. She isn’t usually this laid-back, sometimes even more reserved than you are. Any curiosity is appeased when Peter climbs in and sits beside you, shooting you a bright smile that you return.

“Oh, but we can’t all possibly fit in here,” Della admonishes and begins to rise, waving her hands when Peter makes to get up. “No, Peter, Markus and I’ll accompany Ned. I think I have to ask him about something anyway.”

“If you’re sure,” Peter says in an unsure tone and you look on, torn between suspicion and being able to talk to Peter without the others.

“I insist,” Della says, smiling sweetly, blue eyes bright. You narrow your eyes at her, not knowing what she’s up to, but let it go. The moment the door shuts and the carriage lurches forward, Peter turns to you, a mischievous smile pulling the corners of his lips up.

“You’ll never believe what I found out,” he breathes out and you lean in, interest piqued. “The Finch-Fletchley twins were the ones behind Flitwick’s trip on Wednesday.”

“No!”

He nods smugly and you start to laugh. “Poor old Professor Flitwick,” you giggle. “Did they get in much trouble?”

“Two weeks of detention, weekends inclusive,” Peter informs you. “Can you believe he didn’t fall?”

Wednesday’s Charms lesson had found Professor Flitwick squeaking suddenly in the middle of his lecture on cheering charms as the stack of books he stood upon began to levitate and took a trip around the room, eventually trailing outside the classroom and into another, frightening a class of first years in the middle of a DADA lesson. You weren’t sure you’d ever laughed so much.

“Flitwick’s a champ,” you remarked, still chortling at the sound of high pitched screams that had echoed down the hall.

Teasingly, you sneak a look at him and murmur in an amused voice, “Peter Parker, I wouldn’t have thought of you as a gossip.”

He rolls his eyes and shoves you lightly, making you yelp out a laugh as you try to regain your balance in the swaying carriage. When it arrives at Hogsmeade, you look around confused for Della, Markus and Ned who are nowhere to be seen. Peter ushers you into the Leaky Cauldron for a warm butterbeer upon seeing you start to shiver after asking one of the Vance siblings, the  _fifth_  person you’d asked, whether they’d seen your friends.

You end up walking along Hogsmeade afterwards, shoulders brushing against each other and heads bent towards each other as you talk. The two of you don’t notice the disillusioned trio trailing after you from a distance. Peter makes the mistake of flicking some snow at you and a grin spreads on your face as you wave your wand, charming multiple snowballs to rapidly launch themselves at his face. Through the laughter, he yells out a cry of surrender and you’re beside yourself at the look on his face. His poor nose is bright red, starkly contrasting against his pale face. You take another trip to the Leaky, ordering another butterbeer for him and ignoring the knowing look Madame Rosmerta sends you.

Unknown to you, two pairs of eyes are watching on in anticipation as you fawn over Peter. Well, fawn over him as you do. You set your hand on his shoulder, rubbing his arm gently.

“You know we look super dodgy, right?” Ned whispers, not once taking his eyes off you and Peter. Markus snorts from where he sits, sipping his water.

“Dodgy is an understatement, Leeds. The two of you look as though you’re conspiring to lace their drinks, which if you do end up doing, I will send the two of you to the Hospital Wing before you even blink.”

He says this casually, turning a page over in the day old newspaper to find the Quidditch section. Della scoffs but quickly stifles a squeal, gripping Ned’s shoulder when she catches sight of you tentatively holding Peter’s hand between both of yours.

“That’s progress, at least, right?” Ned mutters.

“Definitely. Now onto phase two of getting Y/N and Peter together,” she whispers, smirking.


	6. nott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why did you feel like everything had shifted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w.c: 1531
> 
> a.n: i’m kind of unsure about the quality of this part but please let me know what you think!
> 
> pairing: gryffindor!peter parker x slytherin!reader

Self preservation had been instilled into you ever since you could remember. Your parents wasted no time to explain the importance of surviving - and not just surviving,  _flourishing_. Flourishing both academically and socially.  _Connections_. Connections were everything if you wanted to make your mark. It was how you met Della. Slytherin families tended to stick together even after the war, if less so.  _Who wanted anything to do with evil Death Eater families?_

And so sparked the friendship between you and the dark haired witch. Playdates turned into sleepovers, your childhood spent alternating between the gardens at both manors. Nott Manor boasted impressive gardens, grounds you knew like the back of your hand. The two of you had spent hours upon hours daydreaming and running through the grass, making up worlds of your own. A princess one day, Merlin’s apprentice the next. Sometimes you would end up roping her older brother in when you needed company.  _Who else would play the dragon you needed to conquer to get the gold?_

Edmund Nott was the carbon copy of his sister in the best possible way. It made it all the more easier to read him. A year older than the two of you, your relationship with him wasn’t as tight as with Della, but strong enough you felt comfortable in his presence. He was easy on the eyes, sure, and you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw some of the younger years gazing starry eyed at the handsome boy, but having known him since the age of four, you considered him family and you knew he felt the same. You didn’t watch someone go through a Weird Sisters phase and be unaffected.

The golden boy of Slytherin, almost everyone expected him to make Head Boy next year. Della and you had placed money on whether or not her brother would grace the Halls of Hogwarts as it’s next Head Boy, the witch placing her faith in one of the Ravenclaw prefects.

Edmund had always been favoured with the teachers. Bletchley, the Ravenclaw prefect, stood no chance. It wasn’t personal, but you’d known from the moment Edmund wrote you during his first year about how he’d charmed his way into McGonagall’s good graces that he’d go far. He’d made a name for himself at Hogwarts during the six years he’d attended, and you would be absolutely shocked if he  _didn’t_ get the position.

The only thing confusing you was the sudden burst of overly affectionate behaviour he was exhibiting. You had gone to the Hall with Markus, Della coming in with Edmund a few minutes. They were fiercely whispering and Edmund’s face, you observed, scrunched up in distaste at something. As they came to the table, he threw himself into the seat next to you then, shadows under his eyes as he poured himself a glass of juice.

It had been fine, with little conversation as you ate, until Peter showed up, your notebook in his hand.

“Morning, Peter,” you greeted brightly, a smile pulling at your lips at the sight of the boy.

“Morning, y/n. Just came over to give you your notes back,” he said and handed you the book, fingers brushing against yours. “Thanks, again. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t worry about it, Parker,” you replied, grinning. “I’ll see you in class, then?”

“Yeah for sure. See you,” he said, and turned to leave.

Edmund, who unbeknownst to you had been glaring at his sister during the whole exchange, sighed and wrapped an arm around you playfully, tugging you into his side.

“So, who’s that and should I be worried, love?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and pushed him away.

“His name is Peter Parker and we’re just  _friends_ ,” you said.

“Glad to hear that,” he said, downing the rest of his juice and standing up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek and you frowned, confused at his retreating form.

You turned to Della questioningly. “He’s acting weird.”

She scoffed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “When is he not?”

It didn’t set you on edge, her answer. Della and Edmund were as fiercely protective of each other as they fought each other. What did spark your concern was the shadow of a smile on her lips as she looked in the direction her brother had gone, blue eyes bright with mischief. You knew that look. It was the very same look you’d see right before some poor soul was dragged into your best friend’s antics. Most of the time, the poor soul in question ended up being Markus. This time, however, you weren’t so sure. You tucked that piece of knowledge away as you went about your day.

You had missed Peter’s (and Ned’s) eyes on you as Edmund kissed your cheek, the brunette boy’s shoulders slumping slightly at the sight and the triumphant look both Della and Ned exchanged.

When the break after lunch rolled around, you excused yourself to the library to meet up with Peter. The two of you had planned to go over some light revision before exams, having covered most of the coursework in the weeks leading up to the OWLs. You secretly suspected he’d offered to study together to keep an eye out for any future meltdowns but didn’t question it, touched at the gesture.

“Hi,” you breathed, sitting down in front of Peter at ‘your’ table in the library. The boy looked up from his notes and shot you a bright smile, skin around his eyes crinkling a little.

“So I thought that maybe we would go over basic Charms. Flitwick mentioned we’d be-” Peter was cut off when the chair next to you screeched as it was pulled out.

“Y/n, love, there you are!”

You narrowed your eyes as Edmund beamed at you, smile a little too bright to be real. Peter stiffened and shut his mouth, watching the exchange apprehensively.

“Edmund,” you greeted warily. Turning to Peter, you pointed at the boy next to you and back at Peter.

“Peter, this is Edmund. Ed, Peter.”

The two nodded at each other, polite smiles painted on their lips. You sighed and directed your attention to the older Nott.

“Can I help you?”

_Peter absolutely did not feel a twinge of satisfaction at the waspish tone you directed at the older boy. He didn’t._

“Just wanted to see my favourite witch,” he answered. “You know I adore you, sweetheart.”

“I don’t doubt I’m your favourite, seeing as I’m the only person in this school that isn’t related to you who puts up with your nonsense,” you commented, rolling your eyes. “I’m in the middle of something here, Ed, can it wait?”

“For you, darling,” he murmured, “anything.”

You pulled a face and shoved at him, the boy chuckling as he avoided your blows and left but not before quickly pecking your cheek once more. You sighed, shaking your head and focusing on Peter.

“I’m sorry about him,” you apologised. “He was raised by wolves.”

“It’s okay,” Peter assured you, smiling tightly. You noticed the agitated air about him and leaned forward to place your hand on his, ignoring the sudden butterflies at the contact.  _You were just trying to see if he was okay._

“Hey, you okay, Parker?”

“What?” he asked, blinking. Shaking his head lightly he tried for a grin. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Do you want to go down to the kitchens and get something? I know we just had lunch, but you look a bit peaky and I know Winky won’t mind getting you a brownie or something,” you offered.

Winky, a house elf in the school kitchens, had taken to you during your third year when Della had shown you the entrance to the kitchens after one of Slytherin’s wins for Quidditch season. The two of you had stuffed yourselves with pastries and even after, as you left, the elves pressed sweets and food into your arms.

The thought of sharing a pitcher of lemonade and slice of Winky’s pie with Peter made your heart leap and your toes curl. You blinked, trying to avoid the intrusive thoughts.  _No_.  _He was your friend. It was just Peter._

He regarded you, soft brown eyes unusually intense, and you couldn’t help but feel as though the tables had turned. After a moment, he shook his head gently, lips turning up weakly in the barest hint of a smile.

“Maybe some other time,” he murmured, and you hid the disappointment as he continued. “I think I just need to get some rest. Is it okay if we cut this short for today?”

“Of course!” you assured, lying through your teeth. “I’ll see you later?”

Standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder, he looked at you and nodded once. “Yeah. See you, y/n.”

And as he walked away, taking large and quick steps, you frowned. It was frustrating, not knowing what was going on. Della, Ed and Peter had all been acting out and you’d no idea why. You couldn’t help but feel as though something had changed.

_You just had to figure out what._


	7. allan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> liz allan was, in short, amazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w.c: 1891
> 
> a.n: we meet liz! i love her so much, i personally feel she’s way underrated
> 
> pairing: gryffindor!peter parker x slytherin!reader

Liz Allan. Tall, incredibly intelligent, and beyond gorgeous. The sixth year Ravenclaw currently held the title of Champion for the duelling club and having seen her in action back in third year, you’d say it was rightly so. She had insanely fast reflexes and you’d been stunned into silence watching her go up against one of the Bell sisters. She’d been quick on her feet, dodging and weaving around every jinx thrown at her, shooting back curses just as quickly. At fourteen she’d easily outvalued everyone in her year level and in your opinion, the whole school.

Della found your high esteem for her hilarious, lumping you in with the rest of her fanclub.  _You’re just as bad as Bletchley, y/n_ , she’d laughed, after seeing you smile shyly at the girl when she’d greeted you. You’d scowled at her comparison of you to the boy and her laughter was cut short as you pushed her off the bench, ignoring the reprimanding look Markus sent you both.

Della related all of this to one Ned Leeds a few days after the Edmund incident, keeping out the part where she’d fallen of course, and the two shared what Markus had in exasperation dubbed, ‘evil smiles’ as they discussed the next course of their plans.

* * *

“Parker!”

He turned at the sound of his name, lips turning upwards as you stopped in front of him. You held up one finger as you caught your breath, having just walked up three flights of stairs.

“Do you want to hear a secret?” You grinned impishly at him as the two of you fell into step, making your way to the meeting room.

He leaned in and you murmur into his ear, “I know what questions are gonna be on the Potions O.W.L.”

He pulled back, staring at you. “How?”

Your smile turned sheepish. “I don’t actually know all the questions,” you admitted. “But I heard Slughorn telling Sinistra the Ministry’s focusing on Polyjuice for the written exam.”

He frowned at that, eyebrows pulling together and forehead wrinkling. “But Slughorn covered that ages ago.”

You looked absolutely gleeful and nodded, eyes wide. “That’s what he said, he’s just pleased it’s not new content like last year’s exams.”

“Guess that’s Potions out of the way, then,” he concluded, then jerked his head. “Come on, we’ll be late for the meeting.”

He was proven correct when all eyes in the meeting room turned to you as the door creaked open. Peter went pink, murmuring an apology as he closed the door behind him and you offered a rueful smile.

“Sorry we’re late, Abbott, Davies.”

“You’re alright,” Lana Abbott, the Head Girl waved away. “Here’s the patrol roster for this week. Try to avoid starting duels in the corridor if it gets too boring.”

She directed the last bit towards Edmund, who shrugged, flashing her his pearly whites. “Can’t make any promises, Abbott.”

You smothered a giggle behind your hand, remembering the time Slytherin had lost a hefty amount of points because Edmund had challenged one of the Hufflepuff prefects to a duel, claiming boredom as the cause. Beside, you, Peter fought the urge to roll his eyes.  _It wasn’t that funny._

He took the roster in his hands and you peered over his shoulder, leaning slightly into him and pouted slightly when you found someone else’s name next to yours. You looked to find his name and your jaw dropped slightly as you saw in neat letters printed next to his name, ‘ _Allan_ ’.

You nudged him lightly, and he turned to you, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“You’re paired with  _Liz Allan_ ,” you whispered excitedly. “How’d you get lucky, Parker?”

He grinned at that, shaking his head at you. “It’s just for patrol, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes at this, “ _It’s just for patrol, y/n_ ,” you mocked. Eyes darting towards the girl in question, you lowered your voice even more. “She’s  _so cool_ , Peter. How are you  _not_  freaking out right now?”

He laughed at you, narrowly avoiding a playful jab you sent his way. “I’ve talked to her before. Her family knows Ned’s and she looked out for the both of us during first year. She’s nice.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, leaving you in stunned silence. When he looked at you once more, soft brown eyes narrowed slightly in concern as he murmured a soft, “You okay?”, you sighed.

“I’m fine, Parker. I just found out you’re friends with my literal hero but I’m good,” you choked the words out dramatically. As if the mention of her name had summoned her, Liz Allan herself appeared next to Peter and the boy had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from bursting into laughter at the dazed and slightly terrified look on your face.

“Hey, Peter,” she greeted, sending you a friendly smile.  _You swore you died in that moment._

“Hey, Liz. Ready for patrol?”

“It’ll be less of a bore with you as a partner, I guess,” she teased lightly. “I got paired with Finch-Fletchley last week and he did not stop talking.”

In that moment, which you later dubbed the suprise of the century, she turned to you and extended her hand.

“I don’t think we’ve officially met,” she said, eyes kind. “I’m Liz.”

You schooled your features into a mask, trying not to freak out, and took it. “Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

 _What an understatement. Could she tell you were seconds away from passing out? What if she was an Legilimens? Put your Occlumency shields up, y/l/n!_ Peter was growing red in the face as he struggled to hold his laughter back and you shot him a pointed look from over Liz’s shoulder.

“Well, I’m gonna have to steal Peter away for now, I’ll see you around, y/n!”

You beamed at her in response, waving goodbye. Peter snorted but sobered up as soon as the girl turned around. The moment they left your sight, you scowled.  _How idiotic you must’ve looked! Who waved anymore?_

“Oh, dear. Someone seems a little starstruck.”

You looked to your left, meeting the bright blue eyes of Edmund Nott. You groaned and fell into his side, one hand flying up to cover your face in shame.

“I must’ve looked so  _stupid_ , Ed,” you lamented. “Merlin, how bad was it?”

He made a face which answered it all for you and you made a noise of protest in your throat, blood rushing your cheeks in embarrassment. He laughed, wrapping an arm around you to steady you on your feet.

“I’m only pulling your leg, love. You weren’t that bad.”

You scowl at that, making to hit him as he laughed and avoided the blows. Finally, he grabbed your wrist lightly and tugged you out of the classroom.

“C’mon, mate, patrol calls.”

* * *

“Ugh, really? You guys couldn’t save it for the common room? 10 points each from Gryffindor,” Peter complained, opening the door to the classroom. The two third years had the decency to blush at having been caught and he rolled his eyes, pointing to the hallway. They filed out, faces sullen as they headed down the hall, presumably in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. Liz wrinkled her nose in their direction and they fell into step, continuing their route through the corridors.

“So, Peter.”

 _Oh no_. He knew that tone. Whatever came next after that tone couldn’t be good.

“Y/n y/l/n, huh?” She smiled slyly at him, a devious look that was out of place on her usually kind face. His cheeks warmed and he shook his head.

“It’s not like that, Liz. We’re just friends.”

She stopped in her tracks, hands on her hips as she stared at him disbelievingly. “I’ve known you for five years, Parker, I’m not stupid.  _You like y/n_.”

His eyes widened at this and his head turned both ways frantically before he whispered furiously, “No I don’t!”

She started to laugh, throwing an arm around him and hugging him tightly. “You do! This is so cute, Peter, you’ve gotta ask her out!”

“Liz,” he complained, in a near whine, “shut up!”

“Okay, okay,” she giggled, pulling away with a wide smile. Her grin softened and she tucked her arm into his as they continued to walk.

“So, how do you plan on asking her out?” she needled.

“Liz!”

“What?! I’m only asking!” she defended herself as they approached the meeting room. “I’ll see you later, Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, giving her a hug and accepting the peck on his cheek. When she pulled back, her hands on his shoulders, she smiled gently.

“You really should ask her out, Pete,” she advised, before turning and walking away. He watched her retreating figure before shoving his hands into his pockets, sighing. A small smile grew on his face, thinking about what she’d said.  _Maybe he should ask you out_.

* * *

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Who, Peter?” you laughed uncomfortably, avoiding Edmund’s probing stare.

“Who else would I be talking about? Flint?”

You grimaced at the thought but shook your head. “He’s nice, Ed, but we’re just friends.”

“But you wish you could be more don’t you?” he said knowingly. You frowned at him.

“This isn’t some sordid romance novel, Ed. Don’t quote one of your books at me.”

He barked out a laugh at that and you rolled your eyes. The thought of you and Peter, together, didn’t sound too awful, and yet you were still hesitant.  _What if it didn’t work out? What if you lost him as a friend? Who was to say he even liked you back?_ You voiced this last concern to the older boy, who stared at you incredulously.

“Love, he let you cry into his arms only a few weeks ago and don’t think I don’t know about your little rendezvous on the Astronomy Tower.”

Your cheeks burned at the implication that Peter might like you. It seemed far too unlikely to be true.

“You’re a creep, Edmund Nott. I’m telling your fanclub that you’re a little gossip,” you berated him.

A slow smile grew on the Slytherin boy’s face and he began to sing loudly, voice echoing in the empty hallway, “Parker and y/n, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes-”

He suddenly shut up as you both rounded the corner to the meeting room, and were greeted with the sight of Liz and Peter. You watched, a weird feeling in your stomach as Peter and Liz stopped in front of the meeting room, arms linked. They seemed to be talking about something serious before she grinned at Peter, leaning in to wrap her arms around him and press a kiss to his cheek before walking away. Peter stared after her and you felt your stomach twist itself into knots as a soft, fond smile grew on his face.

“Oh, love,” you heard Edmund say comfortingly as he took in your slightly disappointed face.

“I told you,” you murmured, smiling blandly, “he doesn’t like me.”

You shrugged and turned back around, making your way back to the Slytherin common room. Edmund cursed under his breath but could only watch you walk away, a sinking feeling in his heart as his eyes caught the slight stiffening of your shoulders and quivering bottom lip.

_Dammit, Della._


	8. exhilaro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and peter tiptoe around each other and edmund sends death glares at his sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n.: it’s honestly been ages since i last posted but it be like that all the time sometimes. also, this chapter is called exhilaro because it’s supposedly the incantation for a cheering charm and while we won’t be practising any charms today, we could say peter is our very own version of a cheering charm!
> 
> w.c: a whopping 2297, damn
> 
> pairing: gryffindor!peter parker x slytherin!reader

Peter thinks about what Liz said to him for a long time, staring up at the canopy of his four poster bed. The crimson curtains are drawn tightly, enshrouding him in darkness. He knows logically it’s not the biggest decision he’s ever had to make. It’s just…one that requires a lot of thought.

Gryffindors are made out to be brash and reckless, he thinks, always running headfirst into anything without thinking twice about the consequences. And he  _is_  like that, sometimes. Tony would tell him the Hat sorted him rightfully, placing him in the Lions’ den. But right now, he can’t help but feel very  _not_  brave. It wasn’t that simple, telling y/n about his feelings. What if it is unrequited? What if it ruins their relationship? He can’t bear to lose y/n.

And then the voice that spurs him on in his braver moments whispers in his ear,  _what if it_ is _mutual?_  What if he isn’t just a hapless victim of unrequited feelings? He’ll never know if he doesn’t get it out with. And keeping it from the Slytherin, something so big, something that involved  _y/n_ , doesn’t he feel bad? Peter Parker cannot for the life of him keep things from y/n y/l/n. He frowns up at the canopy and his heart thuds loudly in his chest when he realises one thing he hasn’t taken into account. His facial features contort into a bitter grimace at the thought of  _Edmund Nott_.

As far as he knows, the two aren’t official but Ned had revealed the older boy’s fondness for y/n, coupled with a long standing friendship. And y/n isn’t shallow, but the pureblood wizard can do so much more for her than him, a muggleborn. The war might have been long over, but prejudice is still evident within some of the wizarding population.

He shakes his head as though to clear his mind of those intrusive thoughts. He takes a deep breath and resolves to think about it logically. He’ll write May and Tony in the morning, maybe even Pepper to get a third opinion. He knows May will get it, she always does. He feels a pang of homesickness at the thought of his aunt and decides to buy her something nice from Hogsmeade the next weekend. It’s when he’s choosing between sugar quills and Honeydukes finest chocolate that sleep finally claims him, eyelids drooping slowly and his breathing evening out.

* * *

_Peter,_

_I hope school isn’t stressing you out too much, sweetie. Remember to take a break in between studying, okay? I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what happens. Say hi to Ned for me. I think the Thai place thinks I’m dead, because I haven’t been in ages. I’m waiting until you come home for break, it feels weird going without you. Also weird, this parchment. I know magic is cool and everything but it wouldn’t kill wizards to use a pen and paper._

He smiles at the piece of parchment May has written on.

_Now, about the girl you’ve been writing to me about all year and every year before that. You’re a brilliant kid, Pete. You’ve got the kindest heart of any kid I know. She’d be very lucky to go out with you. You told me Gryffindor is the house for brave people, right? You’ve got this in the bag, honey. Just take a breath and tell her. If she’s really as great as you’ve been telling me, she’ll at the very least not take it badly._

_I love you loads, Pete,_

_May_

_P.S: thanks for the sugar quills, I expect a supply coming back home with you for break_

He rolls his eyes at the last line but the smile still remains as he folds the parchment and tucks it into his back with the hopes that the charm Professor Flitwick taught him to keep his assignments from crumpling is still intact.

He hears a laugh from across the hall and he ignores the fact that he’d picked out the sound from amongst all the chatter in the hall as he looks up to see your face split in a mirthful grin, mouth open as you giggle at something Della has said. Your loud reaction amuses him, he rarely sees you act so open especially in a public setting such as the Great Hall. He rests his head in the palm of his hand and next to him, Ned shoots a look at him and follows his gaze to the pureblood princess. The girl in question looks up and shoots the two of them a soft smile, a smile which sends a rush of heat to Peter’s cheeks as he grins back. Ned rolls his eyes at the starry eyed duo.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?”

Peter turns his head to look at his best friend, confused. “Why would I do that?”

“You  _clearly_  like her, Peter,” Ned says matter-of-factly which prompts an exaggerated sigh. “ _And_ , don’t think I’m done, she likes you too!”

“C’mon, man,” Peter says, packing up his stuff and forcing out a laugh, forcing himself to brush it off and not dwell on fantasies. “We’re just friends.”

It comes out firm and he doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince. Himself or Ned. They look back at the Slytherin table and find Edmund sitting next to her, muttering something in her ear as their heads bent towards each other seemingly discussing something private.

“‘Sides,” he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “she’s probably into someone else.”

“Peter,” Ned sighs but he beats him to the punch and raises a hand as he heads out.

“I’m gonna get a head start on that Runes assignment, I’ll see you in class,” he calls and walks out.

He bumps into Liz at the entrance and the older Ravenclaw draws him into a conversation as they head on out.

He misses the downcast look that overtakes the slight wistfulness in your gaze. Edmund glares at his sister over your head and the youngest Nott avoids his gaze stubbornly in favour of prodding you.

“Why don’t you ask him out?”

“There’s no point asking out someone and making a fool of yourself because they don’t feel the same way,” you say lightly but the tightness in your shoulders says otherwise. Della silently winces at the furious look her brother sends her but you don’t see it, too busy gathering your belongings with a flick of your wand.

“I’m going to the library and get in some reading before class,” you tell them, and head out of the hall, head held high in an effort to appear anything  _but_  affected. Unrequited feelings are the least of your problems, you tell yourself. This was O.W.L.s year. You don’t have time to spare moping over a boy who didn’t return your feelings. You can mope after exams.

The library was full and you grimace at the sight of the loud students that had occupied a space they would’ve avoided at all costs outside of exam season. You sigh and make your way to the back of the library, lips quirking up into a pleased grin when you find your usual seat unoccupied.

It’s twenty minutes into your Arithmancy revision when Peter Parker, the boy who’d plagued your thoughts from the moment he’d smiled at you on the Astronomy tower, appears in a whirlwind of papers and mumbled curses. His hair is mussed from running his fingers through it and looks unsure.

“Hey, Parker,” you say, as if your stomach isn’t twisting itself into nervous knots.

“Hey to yourself, y/l/n,” he replies, throwing himself into the chair next to you. “Sorry if I interrupted you or anything, I, uh, it’s just a bunch of Hufflepuffs were being too loud and I couldn’t get any work done.”

You simply smile at him, moving your stuff to make room for his textbooks. He shoots you a grateful look and sets down the piece of parchment and textbooks he had in his arms. You look over at his work and comment,

“You’re doing that Runes assignment?”

“Yeah,” he groans and his head falls down, hitting the oak table. You smile sympathetically, gingerly patting his shoulder.

“Chin up, it’s the last assignment for the year at least,” you say cheerfully.

“I guess there’s that,” he mumbles, and it comes out muffled. He raises his head and leans forward to raise his elbows on the table, making you bite down a coo at how  _adorable_  he looks with the petulant pout jutting his bottom lip out. He looks at you then, and you blink at having been caught staring. To your luck, though, he doesn’t seem interested in the reason behind your attention.

He looks at you, willing all his Gryffindor courage to appear.  _C’mon Peter, c’mon. Be brave like May. Be brave like Tony._

“Can I ask you something?” His face is serious, eyebrows lowered in a slight frown. You resist the urge to make a smart comment, instead nodding.

“Are you and Edmund, like, I don’t know, you guys seem close and it just seems like you’re, y’know,” he mumbles and you’re taken aback at the question. “I was just wondering, because I’m curious, are you guys…?”

“That’s the least expected question ever,” you say lightly, giggling awkwardly and then seeing his forced grin, you shake your head. “Edmund’s just acting weird. He’s not usually so…affectionate. He’s more of an older brother anyway. Don’t think I could ever see him like  _that_. I know too much about him to even consider…ew, no.” You scrunch up your nose at the thought.

“Oh.”

Peter’s pleasantly surprised at this, and he nods mutely, processing this information. You drop your gaze to the wooden surface of the desk, and then look back up. Slytherins aren’t known for their bravery, but perhaps, just this once, you could be brave too. Sucking in a breath, you peek at him shyly.

“What about you, Parker? You and Liz look cute together,” you try for a teasing tone and he looks at you, face pinching together.

“What? No!” he shakes his head fervently, “She’s…no, she’s dating some Hufflepuff on the Quidditch team, but they’re keeping it lowkey.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles weakly.

Your smile is strained and you figdet nervously, a habit your mother had endeavoured and invested most of your childhood in breaking, as a stifling silence settles over the two of you. The boy next to you clears his throat, tapping his pen rapidly against the desk.You want to break the silence and say something, anything to get rid of the tension but find your throat is dry and mind blank as you try to think.

“Well,” you sigh, “better get to this revision. I doubt Professor Vector would be pleased if I tried to get rid of the anti-cheating spells during the exam.”

It seems to have done the trick, as Peter snorts and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t put it past you. You’d probably manage to not get caught, too.”

You let out a giggle and pull your revision back towards you. This time, the silence between you doesn’t make you uncomfortable. It’s almost peaceful, even. But you’re unable to study, mind replaying Peter’s words while unknown to you, the Gryffindor beside you does the same. You sneak a look at him and look away just as fast when his eyes meet yours, hiding your smile behind the large textbook you prop in front of your face as you squint to read the text.

* * *

Della, Ned, Edmund and Markus watch from between the books as the two of you sit in silence, finally at rest.

“Ow!”

Della nearly blows their cover when she receives two flicks to the head and squeaks. She rounds on Markus and her brother, both of them sporting similar steely expressions.

“What was that for, you brutes?” she hisses.

“No more meddling,” Markus says with such finality in his tone she shuts her mouth.

“You drove them further apart than you did together, you stupid girl,” Edmund scolds. “And possibly ruined my relationship with y/n. I don’t think I can even look her in the eye now.”

She sighs out an exasperated, “Oh fine.” and they all turn back to the two of you, who Ned hasn’t taken his eyes off despite his part in the meddling.

“You know, Leeds, you were a part of it as well,” she grumbles and he shoots her a grin.

“He already knows what’s going to happen if either of you decide to meddle in y/n’s love life ever again, so shut your mouth before they see us,” Markus says, making Ned’s smile falter every so slightly. Della sends him an inquisitive look and he leans forward to whisper,

“He said he’d find a way to lace our drinks with a strong dose of the opposite of Felix Felicis potion.”

“Which is?” Della asks, never having heard of such a potion before.

“Well I don’t know but I don’t want to have bad luck, not when O.W.L.s are coming up. He even showed me the bottle.”

She knows the likelihood of that potion existing isn’t very unlikely, and that her boyfriend’s getting his hands on it wouldn’t have been too hard and so she shuts her mouth.

Behind her, Edmund mutters lowly, “What was actually in that bottle?”

Markus grins and says, “Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion.”

It’s Edmund who gets them kicked out by a furious Madam Pince when she hears him roar with laughter. Somehow oblivious to the events happening only a few feet away, you and Peter study in comfortable silence, content.


	9. history of magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Thursday of the second and last week of O.W.L.s and you’ve just finished your last exam on A History of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: apparently i’m more motivated to write when i’m emotional and the influx of emotional baggage this week proved that. 
> 
> w.c: 1221
> 
> pairing: gryffindor!peter parker x slytherin!reader

When O.W.Ls roll around the first thing Della says when she sees you and Peter show up to breakfast looking equally as exhausted and barely eating before rushing off to the library to squeeze in revision before the first exam, leaving her wondering whether she’d just hallucinated the whole thing, is,

“Merlin, there’s two of them.”

She can’t count how many times over the years she’d caught you wearing yourself thin as you stressed over exams, resorting to scarily unhealthy behaviour, and now that the very person she thinks is perfect for you turns out to be the exact same, she feels strongly tempted to go back on her vow and cause an intervention. She really would, but the thought of Markus lacing her drinks with an anti-felix felicis potion just as O.W.L.s are approaching makes her think twice.

To her dismay it only gets worse over the two weeks, even worse than pre-O.W.Ls week, where you and the Gryffindor had practically holed yourself up in the library every break to revise. When the two of you practiced for the practical exams, you’d begun to get food delivered as opposed to going to the Hall and getting something to eat. It helped that Winky the house elf was more than happy to stuff your pockets with sweets and sandwiches.

_“They’re practically attached at the hip nowadays,” Della had muttered, watching the two of you meet at the Entrance Hall before heading back to the library._

_“Green isn’t a good look on you love,” Markus had muttered, scribbling last minute notes onto a piece of parchment._

_She scoffed at that. “I’m a Slytherin, dummy, and everything looks good on me. And, I’m not jealous.”_

_“Whatever you say.”_

_She’d sent a bat bogey at him then, which he’d managed to deflect swiftly._

Della’s more than relieved when the Thursday of the last O.W.L.s week arrives, and for more reasons than exams being over. Walking out of the last exam, a History of Magic one that she was sure she wouldn’t be receiving an O on, she breathes a sigh of relief. After this, you and your Lion boy won’t be driving her insane with rigorous prepping because there’ll be no exams to prep for.

She beams - actually  _beams_  - when she sees the boy in question waiting outside the Great Hall. She supposes he’s waiting for you to finish, Ned by his side on the steps of the stairwell outside the Hall as he mindlessly bounces his leg. The Filipino boy is reading a book, looking as relaxed as one could be after  _finally_  finishing two weeks of testing and knowing there’s only a week until school lets out for the summer.

“Hello, Parker, Leeds,” she greets conversationally, stopping in front of them.

“Hey Della,” Ned replies, looking up from the book he’s reading to shoot her a cheerful smile, which she returns. She’s come to appreciate Ned’s bubbly personality, which she finds infectious. Peter looks at her, confused.

“Is it like, Slytherin law to call everyone by their last name? You can call me Peter, y’know.”

She laughs at that, shaking her head. “It’s just a habit, even y/n does it. Our parents talk like that so I suppose we learned it from them. You’ll see when you meet the y/l/n’s.”

He pales so fast at the thought that she stifles a rude snort. The y/l/n’s weren’t as prominent a pureblood family as say the Malfoys or the Blacks, but they were important. Della could only hope to be present when the day came that they met the muggleborn boy their daughter had taken to. It’d certainly be an interesting affair. Luckily, he’s saved from answering when you walk out of the Hall, looking a little lost in your thoughts. His face brightens and Della watches as he jumps to his feet, heading for you.

“Hey, how was it?” he asks gently. You take a minute, looking up at him with a distracted expression.

“Hm? Oh!” you shake your head. A slow smile creeps up on your face, and you  _glowed_ ,  _practically glowed_  as you answered.

“It was so easy I fear I might’ve failed,” you giggled ruefully. “But Peter, you saw the first five pages, didn’t you?  _Merlin_ , were they even  _trying_? Those were the exact same from the revision guides Binns gave us!”

You laugh hysterically when he returns your smile broadly, scooping you up and spinning you around in a tight grip. Meanwhile, Della looks aghast, and on the verge of a temper tantrum. Ned casts a worried look in her direction and she whips her head, levelling him with a blazing look despite her anger not being directed at him.

“She actually answered him,” she hisses and the boy shakes his head, not quite understanding. “You don’t understand, Ned! Y/n  _hates_  talking about tests after they’re done. She nearly bit off some fifth year’s head when he asked us in third year how testing went!  _Circe’s sake_ , she snapped at  _me_  last year for asking the same question!”

Edmund descends the staircase just as she begins her tirade and pats Ned’s shoulder sympathetically. Whispering conspiratorially, he leans forward.

“She’s just jealous that y/n’s replaced her with your best friend.”

“I’m  _not_  jealous,” Della practically shrills. When Edmund’s gaze fixes on something over her shoulder and his eyes widen, she turns and shuts her mouth.

She holds her breath, unsure if testing for two weeks straight has taken it out of her and she’s hallucinating or you’re  _actually_  in Peter’s arms. The two of you aren’t making any moves to pull away, gazing at each other with soft smiles. It’s a testament to how close the two of you have become that Peter doesn’t look remotely uncomfortable, relaxed and at home even with you in his arms.

You see his eyes flicker downward to your mouth and feel your heartbeat pick up as you both lean in ever so slightly, moving so slow you feel you could burst with impatience but you feel frozen and unable to break the trance that you associate with  _Peter Parker_. It’s unfair really, that he has such an effect on you.

And then a hand comes down on your shoulder and you almost trip in your haste to pull away as Markus -  _the bloody idiot_ , Della seethes - says loudly,

“Hey, champ, how was it?”

A nervous first year edges away from Della, who looks downright terrifying, glowering at her boyfriend. You clear your throat, smoothing your jumper down and nod at Markus, smiling weakly.

“It was alright,” you murmur, though your gaze is pulled back as though magnetically to Peter, who hasn’t taken his eyes off you despite the wine red flush that’s settled on his neck and cheeks. It’s only when the two of you get swept up into different crowds of people who have suddenly exited the Great Hall do you break eye contact as you’re drawn into conversations.

It’s too bad fate had other plans, which came in the form of Markus because even though you’re talking to one of the Goldsteins, there’s only one place you want to be in that moment, and it’s in Peter’s arms.

You just need the right timing.


	10. hogwarts express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how is talking to the boy you like harder than two weeks of exams? you certainly have no clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: i’m dead tired and haven’t slept properly in days because my sleep schedule is wack also this piece is here, i hope you enjoy it! please give feedback loves, i cannot stress the weight your words have on other people, especially writers who spend a long time on their work only to have a few likes and little to no feedback at all. it may take you a couple of minutes to read a fic but more time was taken to actually create it so a few words go a long way and help encourage us writers. whew, i’m sorry to ramble on so much but it’s something that needed to be said.
> 
> w.c: 1590
> 
> pairing: gryffindor!peter parker x slytherin!reader

The third week of June follows the end of O.W.Ls, along with an air of tension and awkwardness that leaves you avoiding Peter at all costs after the embarrassment of Markus’s interruption. Della comforts you the night of, calling her boyfriend just about every name in the book, swearing up and down  _on Merlin’s name_  she’ll refuse to speak to him for all his talk about meddling and then ‘going and ruining everything more than she ever did’. The moment those words leave her mouth you narrow your eyes and hers widen, realising her mistake.

After several threats ( _“So help me Merlin, Adeline Marie Nott I will hurt you if you don’t tell me right this instant what you’ve done!”_ ) you get her to confess. When your best friend reveals she and Ned Leeds had tried to push you and Peter together, starting with that one Hogsmeade visit and ending with Edmund and Liz’s interference, you send a light stinging hex her way. She apologises, though you’re forced to admit that you don’t find it that big of a deal after her boyfriend’s “buffoonery”.

Avoiding Peter isn’t as hard as you might’ve thought, as the boy seems to be avoiding you too. It puts a damper on your mood because you certainly don’t want to be avoiding him and  _he is only treating you the way you’re treating him_  but still you can’t help but feel cross at the entire situation. Breaks between classes you now spend with Della out by the lake or walking through the halls but you still miss his company.  _Stupid Markus and stupid, stupid you_  for not having the courage to address the issue. You weren’t a Gryffindor, you weren’t brave or bold. You’d been taught self preservation and how to avoid embarrassment and climb a social ladder and be sneaky. Nowhere under your governess’s tutelage had you learned how to face a boy you’d  _almost kissed._  You rather wish you had, you think, sending a look over to the Gryffindor table where said boy was talking to Ned.

The only discomfort arises in Potions, where you’re forced to sit next to one another. This isn’t that big a deal, as with the approach of summer, Slughorn seems to have taken it easy and resorts to have the class take notes and hold a discussion. You avoid looking at your -  _no, not yours, you messed that up when you started avoiding him_  - the Gryffindor boy sitting next to you, despite the brushing of his arm against yours as you take notes. The dungeons are naturally cold though with the approach of summer or for whatever other reason, the room temperature is still stiflingly warm despite the lack of burning cauldrons.

Your feelings of discomfort steadily increase as time passes and it takes everything in you not to squirm in your seat, the urge to bounce your leg like an itch you’re forced to ignore in favour staying stock still. When the bell dismisses you, you breathe a silent sigh of relief, thanking Merlin for you’re not sure you could’ve lasted much longer. You join Della and the two of you head back to the common room, which isn’t far from the Potions classroom.

The two of you drop your bags off in the dorm and you cast a glance around the room, eyeing the slight clutter at your desk with distaste. A quick flick of your wand fixes that however, and the pieces of parchment that had scattered themselves on the tabletop fly neatly into a pile. Della picks the top one up and you sit back on your four poster, smoothing the bottle green covers down as she reads through the letter.

“Oh sweetie,” she says, after finishing, a sympathetic look in her eyes. She joins you on the bed, arm wrapping around your shoulder. You lean into her side but protest at the tone of her voice.

“It’s not  _that_  bad,” you mutter.

“Y/n, you wrote a  _letter_  to Peter instead of facing him about what happened. Granted, you didn’t send it, what a horror that would’ve been,” she intones, “ _Dear Peter, I’m sorry Markus stopped us from kissing._ ”

“I did not say that!”

“You might as well have,” she retorts, eyes crinkling with laughter. You roll your eyes and lay back, looking up at the canopy of your bed. Della follows suit and the two of you stay there in silence before you ask,

“Then what  _do_  I do?”

“Talk to him, but we can start with giving Markus hell if you’d like,” she suggests brightly. You smile at that and squeeze her hand. The two of you spend the next hour like that, talking and laughing. With a jolt, you realise just how much you’d missed your best friend, having spent most of your time with Peter as of late. Your attention returns to her when she says something about Markus and a dungbomb in his trunk.

You’re sure you’ve never laughed so hard in your life.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express is a scarlet steam locomotive that for the past five years has carried you to and from Hogwarts. Finding a compartment isn’t hard, though you are certain you’ll be bruised from head to toe what with some first years running up and down the carriages, bumping into you several times. It takes an ice cold glare from Della to make them widen their eyes and duck into their compartment, where you notice they remain for the rest of the trip to London.

Watching the rolling hills go by, you and Della amuse yourselves with a game of exploding snap, though you soon grow bored and practice transfiguring pieces of parchment into obscure objects. Markus, you notice with amusement, sends sullen looks towards Della while talking to Edmund. Della ignores it, having refusing to acknowledge him beyond simple conversation after his stunt. You won’t persuade her to do otherwise, you find it hilarious, if a bit petty. But then again, Slytherins always were a dramatic lot.

When the train rolls into Platform 9 ¾ and everyone files out, your eyes scan the crowd of parents and children reuniting, seeking out your parents. Through the haze of scarlet smoke however, your gaze lands on a head of curly brown hair and you feel your heart constrict as you watch Peter make his way to the pillar halfway between you and him, clearly intent on crossing over into Kings Cross.

You don’t know what’s become of you and you hear Della and Edmund call out your name in confusion as you hurriedly push your way through the crowd. Your heart races and you feel like yelling out frustratedly because the crowd seems to get even bigger and you’re not getting any closer. You don’t want to leave Peter doubting you for the rest of the summer. You don’t want him to doubt you  _at all_.

You almost cry out in relief when you’re able to get out through the other side of the crowd and you pick up your pace to get to Peter, calling out his name. He turns around and you almost freeze in your place but you summon every last bit of courage you have, stopping in front of him. He looks confused, doe eyes narrowing and his brows pulling together as he tilts his head.

You smile ruefully at him, all golden and perfect, your Peter. “I had to make sure you knew,” you say simply as a means of explanation and before he can ask any questions, your hands raise up. One hand on his shoulder and the other cradling his jaw, you lean up and press your mouth to his. He freezes, tensing up at first and then his arms wrap around your waist and a hand presses on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

Kissing Peter, you decide, is something you should have done long ago. He tastes of Honeydukes’ finest chocolate bars and you almost whine when he pulls away, cheeks reddened and eyes bright. You look at him through half lidded eyes, slightly dazed and he laughs quietly. He leans down and kisses your cheek once more before pulling you into a hug. Blinking, you wrap your arms around him and breathe in the scent of cinnamon that lingers in his shirt.

“I’ll write you over the summer, pretty girl,” he promises when he steps back and you feel quite sycophant-like when you smile adoringly up at him.

“I should hope so, Parker,” you tell him, words playful and contrasting against the reverence in your gaze. He lets out a laugh and you quickly press a kiss to his cheek, delighting in the way he reddened once more before you mouth a ‘bye’, smiling so wide you fear you look mad as you make your way back to Della and Edmund.

Peter watches as your figure reatreats in the distance, disappearing into the smoke of the Hogwarts Express, eyes filled with fondness. When he’s unable to see you at all, he returns his attention to the woman beside him. He shifts uncomfortably when May starts grinning at him teasingly, knowing exactly what the trip home is going to entail.

“So, hon, that’s y/n.”

He doesn’t like her tone, and judging from the cheshire cat grin that pulls her mouth upwards, she  _knows_. Stifling a grin, he takes hold of his cart and prepares for the onslaught. Thinking back to you, though, he decides it’s completely worth it.


	11. diagon alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you see peter for the first time since school ended for the summer and meet may parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: some things: 1. this is the longest fic i’ve ever written and longest chapter yet 2. two oh wonder songs (technicolour beat and shark) played while writing a terribly cheesy scene, let me know if you can tell which scene it is 3. i also slipped a cap 1 reference in there because i’m a sucker for peggy carter
> 
> w.c: bloody 2.01K, which is huge for me
> 
> warnings: extremely sweet, lovey dovey, cheesy, tooth rotting fluff also, edmund is a warning on his own

The summer days dwindle by slowly, like the wilting petals of a rose that one by one float down to rest on a mahogany table. You spend the days at your desk or in the gazebo in the gardens, putting quill to parchment and searching the skies for your beloved owl Antigone. Your parents cast you funny looks, likely wondering just what you are up to. You can’t blame them. A lot had changed in the past year, since you’d met Peter. You usually spend your summers with the Notts, bothering Della and Edmund and leaving the halls of y/l/n Manor silent. And now here you are, sitting in the bay window of your room and leafing through a worn copy of  _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

The screech of an owl captures your attention and your head snaps up, a soft smile tugging the corners of your mouth up as Antigone swoops through one of the open windows. You coo as she circles the room, landing on the stand you’d specially crafted after her talons had near ruined the arm of your favourite armchair. Your eagle owl cocks her head and you smile brightly at her, petting her feathers gently as you retrieve the envelope tied to her leg.

_Y/n,_

_Antigone isn’t as scary as you made her out to be, so I don’t know if you were kidding or she just likes me. For the sake of my pride, we’ll go with the second. Anyway, May and I are thinking of doing school shopping around the 20th, so if you can, we can meet then. If not, it’s fine and I’ll see you September 1st._

_May won’t shut up about you though, so thank you for your little scene on Platform 9 ¾. She’s been teasing me all summer about it, so consider this a promise to get you back._

_Let me know about the 20th, I feel like it’s been ages and I’d like to see you before school starts. May says she’d also like to meet you. No pressure._

_Yours (that’s a thing you guys do, right? All romantic and old fashioned),  
Peter_

You snort at the last lines of his letter, imagining the mortification he’d felt at the hands of his aunt.  _Poor kid_.

Antigone screeches and you turn your head to face her, apologetically smiling.

“Sorry, Ant,” you say, offering her owl treats. Stroking her plumage, you chat to her, “You know, Peter said you’re not very scary, but I think you could be a right menace if you wanted to, couldn’t you?”

You have an inkling she understands you, because she lets out a hoot and nips lightly at your finger as if to say  _‘Damn straight’_. She nips your finger once more and stretches her wings out once before burrowing her head into them as you reach for a quill and another piece of parchment, setting Peter’s letter in the drawer where all the others are.

_Dear Peter,_  you write.

* * *

Diagon Alley is a flurry of activity, cobblestone paths barely seen under the hustle and bustle of London’s magical population. You can spot many Hogwarts students scattered around the street, eager Quidditch fans with noses pressed up against the glass of Quality Quidditch Supplies, admiring the new brooms and gear, muggleborns and their befuddled parents taking in the world around them with awe in their eyes, witches stepping out of Madam Malkin’s with bags of robes stuffed to the brim hovering behind them. The pleasant, familiar hum of magic in the air washes over you as you step out of the Leaky Cauldron and you close your eyes for a moment, taking it in.

“C’mon, princess, haven’t got all day.” Edmund’s voice breaks the spell and you sigh, casting him a reproachful look. “What? You really gonna keep Lover Boy waiting after being apart all summer? I thought you were excited to see him.”

You scowl at the nickname but the mention of Peter prompts a smile and you make your way down the alley, a spring in your step. A glance at your watch indicates that it is indeed 1 o’clock, meaning Peter and his aunt have most likely arrived.

“Oh, hold on,” Edmund says and you turn, raising a brow. “I’ve just got to pop into Flourish and Blott’s.”

“That’s alright, Fortescue’s isn’t too far from here, you can meet us there,” you suggest and frown when he shakes his head gravely.

“No can do, kid, promised your parents I’d not leave you ‘unattended’.”

“What?” you sputter. “That’s so backwards! They’ve never had a problem with us going out by ourselves!”

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry,” he apologises, scratching the back of his neck. “They just want to look out for you, what with all the people here, it’s easy to get swept away.”

“I suppose,” you grumble in such a way you’re sure your governess would deeply disapprove of. “Just be quick about it, Nott.”

The line in the bookshop ends up being so long that by the time you exit, you are sure you might scream if anything else pops up.

“Alright, we said we’d meet at Fortescue’s by 1:15, it’s now 1:25 so thank you very much,” you say waspishly, eyeing the dark haired boy, who only raises his hands apologetically. “Let’s just not waste any time.”

And then you turn, facing Fortescue’s, only to freeze.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, not this again,” Ed mutters wearily behind you, but you ignore him, eyes on Peter.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, sitting comfortably in one of the chairs outside and looking as though he hasn’t a care in the world. The sun hits his brown curls perfectly, filtering through strands of auburn and caramel and basking him in sunlight,  _drowning him_  in warmth, casting a glow about his features. He tips his head back to laugh at something and you hold your breath, eyes on the sharp cut of his jawline that  _no sixteen year old boy should be armed with_  and the curve of his mouth, the crinkles around his eyes and the way his white shirt hugs his torso ever so slightly, grey jacket clad shoulders shaking with laughter. Peter Parker sits outside Florean Fortescue’s looking like the  _prettiest sodding boy_  that you’ve ever seen and you sigh, thinking it rather unfair that he looks so good. He makes it look effortless, you bet he doesn’t even bloody try. It just happens.

Vaguely, you hear Edmund choke out a laugh when you sigh, stomach fluttering at the sight of your dear, darling Peter Parker looking every bit the golden boy he is. You feel you might melt, and Edmund sighs exasperatedly.

“For the love of Merlin, I thought we were being quick, not wasting  _more_  time. Just go over there before I retch, y/n, you utter sap. It’s a wonder anyone thinks you’re scary at all. All it takes is one Gryffindor and you’re done for,” he complains, but you’ve already started to make your way through the crowds, reminiscing the last time you’d seen Peter, which had gone down quite similarly to the current moment.

You place your hands gently over his eyes when you reach him, leaning down to be level with his ear.

“Guess who?”

You laugh and pull away just in time to avoid being hit in the face when Peter shoots up and out of his seat, whirling around to face you. His face lights up and you feel a little part of you relax, confirming that he is just as happy to see you as you are to see him. He hugs you tightly and you lift your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, grinning when he sets you back on your feet.

“I missed you,” he admits shyly, lacing your fingers together. You bite your lip, refraining from smiling any wider and squeeze his hand.

“I can see that,” you tease and watch a pretty shade of pink stain his cheeks as he ducks his head, chuckling.

“Oh shut up, y/n, you were the one crying about being late and then staring at him like a bloody creep two seconds ago.”

Edmund had followed you at a slightly slower pace and you spin around to face him, gasping.

“Edmund!” you hiss, appalled, and next to you, Peter begins to laugh, not letting go of your hand as Edmund continues.

“You were going to rip my head off when I went to get my books and then stood crying about how gorgeous he looked for five years. Merlin, y/n,” he says, shaking his head as your eyes widen in mortification.

_“Shut up!”_

A laugh halts all conversation and you grimace in embarrassment, facing Peter’s aunt.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Parker, you must think I’m terribly rude not to introduce myself. I’m y/n, I go to school with Peter,” you say, giving her your sweetest smile. She grins back at you, waving her hand dismissively.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it, it made for good entertainment. Call me May.”

You think the Parkers must be genetically loveable, because you fall in love with the woman then and there, seeing so much of Peter in her and you understand then where he gets it from. Having only spent a few minutes in her presence, you confirm the woman is amazing. The fact that she called you  _honey_ , something your parents never did, not ones for affection, was enough.

“You must be so proud of Peter,” you say conversationally, taking a seat next to Peter, the boy lowering himself back down from where he’d shot up. “He’s brilliant.”

The proud look she shoots her nephew reinforces the warmth in your stomach as well as the little bit of resentment that you’d been kept from  _that_. Shaking your head to clear the thoughts, you continue to talk to her, Edmund helping you answer her questions about the wizarding world.

When you’re finished with your ice creams, mouths sticky with sugar and stomachs sufficiently full, the four of you stood up and go about Diagon Alley, making sure to steer Peter and May away from Knockturn Alley, despite the woman’s curiosity about ‘that funny man selling bottles of fairy dust’, knowing all too well nothing but trouble would lay there.

When the sun begins to set and Edmund reminds you gently that you should be getting back, you cast a longing look at Peter, whose hand you haven’t let go of all afternoon. He smiles softly at you, thumb rubbing your hand comfortingly.

“Chin up, y/l/n, I’ll see you in eleven days,” he coaxes, chucking your chin. You pout, moving to hug him and he wraps his other arm around you. Pulling back, you cast your eyes downward.

“Well, I’ll see you, Parker,” you mutter ruefully, letting go of his hand and immediately missing the warmth as cold air hits your palm and fingers. He takes on a shy expression then, and suddenly leans in quickly, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Well look at that,” Edmund drawls, ever the moment ruiner, “she’s as lit up as a yuletide tree.”

“What?” May asks, confused.

“Oh, uh, Christmas tree,” he provides and you take that opportunity to kiss Peter’s jaw. He grins down at you, and you smile softly back.

“September 1st,” you say, backing away.

“I’ll be there,” he promises, taking May’s elbow and heading out of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Don’t you dare be late,” you raise your voice and he raises a hand, smile never once leaving. Your eyes remain on him until the door closes and you sigh, turning back to Edmund.

“Home, then?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. Exhaling noisily, you say in a resigned tone, “I  _really_  like him, Ed.”

He laughs at that, patting your head, rather like a dog, you think. “He  _really_  likes you, too, y/n/n.”

You fall asleep that night eager for September first, and all that it’ll bring.


	12. thestrals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back to hogwarts for sixth year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: this chapter is brought to you by my procrastinating self on queen zendaya maree stoermer coleman’s birthday and september 1st aka back to hogwarts day!!!! whoo this chapter gets a little intense at the end and i honestly didn’t plan the turn things took. initially, this was going to be called ‘grand staircase’ but for reasons which will soon become clear, ‘thestrals’ took its place.
> 
> w.c: 2.3K, which takes the cake for longest chapter of this series
> 
> warnings: cheesiness, mentions of death, angst

There is ten minutes until the Hogwarts Express leaves Platform 9 ¾ and Peter Parker is nowhere to be seen. With every passing second, your anxiety steadily rises and your teeth tug worriedly at your bottom lip before you stiffen and purse your lips instead.  _Don’t show any visible signs of distress. He’s probably running a little late. He’ll be here._

Della’s “Merlin, he’s still not here?” is in good faith but doesn’t help and you squeeze her hand when it slips into yours comfortingly, grateful that she’s here at least.

Peter, though. Peter isn’t anywhere to be seen. As if she hears you, she nudges you lightly with an earnest expression on her face.

“He’ll be here, he’s a bit of a mess but he wouldn’t actually miss the train.”

There’s a tinge of hesitance in her voice, as though she isn’t sure herself whether or not the curly haired Gryffindor will arrive on time. She tries to mask it with a hopeful smile but you can only manage a weak grin in return. You nod slowly, keeping your eyes on the compartment window that looks into the still crowded platform.

As the next minutes pass worryingly fast, you grow more agitated as you scan the sea of parents and siblings, all seeing off their loved ones. Nothing.

“C’mon, Peter,” you mutter, eyes on the now thinning assembly of well wishers. Your plea doesn’t invoke any sort of miracle, and there still isn’t any sign of him.

It’s at a frightening two minutes to 11 that a loud crash sounds and your head turns so fast to where the barrier is you fear you have whiplash, but nonetheless your eyes land on Peter Parker, who hurtles himself almost comically through the brick wall.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, feeling as though a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You watch now in amusement as he hurriedly pushes past disgruntled parents, apologising hastily as he narrowly avoids knocking over a little girl. He’s seconds away from tripping over his untied shoelaces, hair mussed and his collar half popped.

In a show of strength that leaves you flabbergasted, the boy heaves his luggage on board and turns to kiss May, the woman looking just as relieved as you are that he hasn’t missed the train. It’s remarkable, the way he jumps onto the train just as the whistle blows shrilly, signalling 11 o’clock.

You open the compartment door and almost knock heads with him as you stick your head out the door. The two of you stare at each other with wide eyes and his chest heaves from the exertion. A second passes before the two of you giggle, shoulders shaking as you retreat back inside and sit down.

“You’re late,” you say primly, smoothing your school skirt down. You shoot him an unimpressed look, though it’s halfhearted at best because you don’t think you could really be mad at him for long.

He shoots you a grin and shakes his head, combing his hair back with his fingers. “Not really. Eleven on the dot, just like you said, remember?”

You roll your eyes. “When one says they’ll be at the Platform by 11, they usually mean before, not late enough they nearly miss the train.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” he teases and you bite back a grin, choosing instead to nudge his leg lightly with the toe of your shoe.

“Next time you’ll arrive a half hour early, Peter Parker, otherwise who knows if you’ll even get on the train at all,” you scold. To that, he simply sends you a childish endearing smile .

“Were you worried about me?” he prods, eyes alight with amusement.

“No,” you deny, as though you hadn’t been squeezing your best friend’s hand to the point of cutting off circulation moments prior. The girl in question shoots you a secretive smile but stays quiet, leaning into Markus.

Before Peter can hound you any further, your saviour appears in the doorway and you smile brightly up at Ned Leeds, sunny disposition still as intact as ever.

“Hi Ned! Come in, tell us about your summer.”

“Hey, y/n,” he says, taking a seat across from you. “I spent it with my family mostly, and honestly it was pretty fun.”

The time in between then and the back to school feast passes with startling speed, though you distinctly remember attending the Prefects’ meeting led by  _Edmund_  as Head Boy, a fact you had smugly rubbed in Della’s face when you’d found out. A mouthy fifth year had been quickly shut down when he muttered a snarky remark about Edmund’s position, glares being sent from Peter, Ned and even some of the Ravenclaw prefects.

At some point in between dozing off on Peter’s shoulder and a game of Exploding Snap, the boy pulls out an old fashioned - by muggle standards, anyway - camera and excitedly shows it off. You have the most fun then, posing with Della and insisting you get a photo of you and Peter. You loop your arm around his, leaning into his side and smiling prettily at the lens. You’re momentarily blinded by the bright flash and then Ned complains that Peter ‘wasn’t even looking at the camera’ because he was giving you ‘goo goo eyes’, at which Peter promptly flushes and snatches the camera back. He promises to have May develop the photos and slips the camera back into his satchel. You don’t miss the way he tries to hide the little smile that plays at his lips, cheeks rosy as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

Arriving at Hogsmeade station, you all take the horseless carriages back up to the castle, though you notice Peter’s grip on your hand tighten and his skin lose a little colour. Resolving to ask him about that later, you squeeze his hand gently and draw him into the conversation about who had actually won the game of Exploding Snap. By the time you clamber off the carriage, taking his hand, he looks a little livelier and you smile happily as you file into the Great Hall.

It’s the same routine you’ve followed for the last six years but you can’t help gazing at the ceiling, craning your neck to watch the stars twinkle against the night sky. Peering over at your companion, you find that Peter does the same, a sort of calm washing over him as he looks up, shoulders relaxing and a soft smile curving his mouth up. You adore him, you really do.

Knowing you can’t sit together on the first night back, you still hold onto his hand and turn to him. “I don’t suppose I’d be allowed to have you at the Slytherin table?”

He grins at you, slipping his hand out of yours to place it on your shoulder and gently turn you in the direction of your table. “Go on, I’ll see you tonight, okay? You’ll be fine.”

“But I miss you, already,” you mutter so petulantly that Della scoffs and tugs you away, muttering obscenities under her breath. You catch a ‘sickening’ and ‘wasn’t this bad’ in between the grumbles. Truly, you did miss him but voicing it aloud was purely for Della’s sake. You bite back a grin, following her to the table.

You don’t bother paying attention to the welcome back speech, managing to zone out for most of it. By the time the food arrives, you’re practically itching for everyone to finish eating so you can get back to the dorms already.

Markus eyes you and hisses, “Sit still, y/l/n. You’d think someone cast  _Tarantallegra_ on you, the way you’re acting.”

You manage a, “Sorry,  _Dad_.” and make a face at him but force yourself to remain still.

When the houses start to leave the Hall, you catch sight of Peter in the crowd and he winks at you, prompting you to shake your head, laughing. Walking down to the dungeons, you follow Della to the sixth year girls’ dorms and take a seat on the bed.

“Meeting lover boy?” she teases, catching you watching the clock beside your bed after putting your things away. You sigh, nodding.

“Don’t call him that, it’s weird,” you say, and she laughs, sitting down beside you.

“How many times did you write him over the summer?” she asks knowingly.

You bite your lip, meeting her eyes bashfully. “A lot. I really like him, Dell, and now we’re, I don’t know really  _what_ , truth be told, but he’s  _great_.”

“D’you love him?”

You stare at her.

“Am I in love with him?” you ask, casting your eyes down to your hands and keeping your voice low so you don’t disturb the other girls, “I don’t know. That’s huge, Dell. I have love in my heart for him, you know? But I don’t know if I’m  _in love_  with him.”

Her eyes widen as she takes in your now increasingly nervous disposition. “Hey, hey, you know no one expects anything of you, least of all Peter.”

Her words set you at ease and you breathe in, nodding to yourself. She looks to the side and then back at you, mischievous smile pulling her lips up.

“Hey, look, you were distracted enough not to noticed curfew passed fifteen minutes ago!”

You look over at the clock and your heart beats faster when you see she’s correct. Slipping your cloak over your nightclothes and wand in hand, you make your way out of the dorm room and manage to slip out of the common room unnoticed.

“What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”

Peter turns so fast you fear for his neck but that soon fades when his face relaxes into a soft smile and he crosses the distance between the two of you, wrapping his arms around you. You smile into his shoulder, arms winding around his waist.

“You know, I saw you only a little over an hour ago,” you tease, “now who’s the clingy one?”

“Shut your mouth,” he mumbles, not letting go and you chuckle.

“Why don’t you make me, hm?”

You think maybe you shouldn’t have said that because then he looks at you with such an intensity in his eyes you’re silenced, your throat drying and heart rate spiking when he raises a hand to cradle your jaw ever so gently. His thumb lazily drags over your cheek and your breath is caught in your throat as he does, brown eyes boring into yours as though he’s trying to look into your soul. You’re forced to keep meeting his gaze, unable to look away as he slowly, torturously leans down, breath mingling with yours as your noses bump gently.

And then he kisses you. It’s nothing like your first kiss. There’s no desperation, or messiness about it. He kisses you gently, and you’re hyper-aware of the sensation of his hands on your cheek and back, guiding you closer to him as his lips brush over yours. Your eyes slide shut and you feel safe there, in his arms as he kisses you slowly, languidly as though you have all the time in the world and you’re not standing on the astronomy tower after hours for anyone to see.

When he pulls away, you press your forehead against his, eyes closed as you try to compose yourself. When you open your eyes he’s smiling at you teasingly, cheeks flushed.

“How was that for making you shut up?”

“Very effective,” you giggle quietly. “I might have to annoy you more if that’s the reaction I’ll be getting.”

He laughs, hand on your jaw sliding back down to your waist. You raise your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, a hand resting on the beck of his neck gently. You stay like that for a while, quiet and enjoying each other’s company, until you remember something.

“Can I ask you about something?”

He hums in response and you think of how to word your question.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but back when we were taking the carriages up, you seemed upset, or at the very least uncomfortable. I just wanted to ask what, well, what caused it.”

He’s silent for a moment, processing it, before you see his face fall a little.

“You don’t have to tell me right now, Peter,” you say gently. “I just, I was worried because you looked rather upset.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, and you nod slowly, waiting for him to continue. “You know the carriages aren’t horseless, right?”

“I had assumed, yes,” you answer, thumb running over the skin of his neck soothingly.

“They’re pulled by thestrals, and well…” he trails off as realisation dawns on your face.  _Thestrals can only be seen by those who’ve witnessed death. For Peter to have seen them…_

“You saw them, didn’t you?” you ask quietly. He nods and you struggle not to crumple your face up and cry at the pained look he gives you.

“Pete, I’m so sorry,” you breathe out.

“It’s okay, really,” he says, but you hear the hitch in his voice and it just about shatters your heart. “It was my, um, my uncle. He, uh, there was a robbery and he…”

You intervene, seeing him choke up and placing a hand on his cheek, you shake your head. “Peter, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, not right now, okay?”

He shoots you a watery smile and you sigh, raising your hands and wiping his eyes. “Here, let’s just watch the stars for a bit, alright? We haven’t got any classes tomorrow, what with it being Sunday and tomorrow we’ll go visit Winky if you’re feeling up to it.”

You press a kiss to his cheek when he nods and hold him tightly, eyes flicking back to him every so often as he watches the night sky. It’s then, at almost midnight on September 1st that you vow to make the world for Peter Parker as best you can.

_You will._


	13. yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> winter brings with it yuletide and you somehow adore peter even more than you thought was possible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: it’s been 84 years….since i last updated this but here we are!!! happy belated 2019!!! the last time i updated i was still in high school and 16 but i’m NOT IN HIGH SCHOOL ANYMORE and 17 whoo!!!! anyways if you’re missing the holiday season this chapter will let you relive it in the fantasy picture perfect setting you want with a cute boy by your side!!! also i tried to not be specific with what holiday is being celebrated because not everyone (myself included) celebrates christmas. there are references to yule (the whole chapter is called yule lmao) but no outright statement of celebrating it so i hope it’s safe?? anyway without further ado!! the chapter!!!
> 
> w.c.: 2819 (we just keep writing more and more wow!!!)
> 
> warnings: cheesiness!! couple stuff!! (which i honest to god know nothing about lmao)

The beginning of winter is signalled by the frigid winds that howl through Hogwarts’ narrow hallways and the frost that glazes over the blades of grass. It brings with it all icy breezes that bite at your cheeks and nose but more importantly, it brings Yule.

Your heart sings at the thought of Yuletide at Hogwarts once more. Though you almost always spend the holiday season with your family, it’s a rare time that you choose to stay and spend it at Hogwarts. The Great Hall is adorned with balls of floating lights that twinkle back amongst the illusion of snow that flutters down, disappearing right before it makes contact with your outstretched palm. The tree is laced with glass baubles that clink gently against the ornaments which various students have placed.

When the list comes around for students staying over the holiday season to sign their names, yours is amongst them, carefully flourished with your quill soon after sending a letter to your parents. They’re not too pleased, you think, but you reason that you have extra homework to catch up on anyway and though the personal library at home is rather grand you’d prefer the convenience of Hogwarts.  _It doesn’t hurt that Peter is staying, too._

The Slytherin common room and its dorm rooms have always been devoid of warmth, but winter adds just a little extra drop in temperature. The stones beneath your feet are icy to the touch and you draw them back instantly, still groggy with sleep when you register the sharp iciness. You simply mutter under your breath,

“Accio slippers.” Your slippers fly out from underneath the four poster bed, causing ripples in the emerald curtains. You slip ( _ha, slip_. The pathetic pun brings a small smile to your face) them on and make your way into the bathroom to freshen up.

Twenty minutes later and several curses later following the splashing of ice water into your face, you’re dressed and exit the common room bundled in your thickest jumper and a warming charm on your tights, hoping to Merlin you don’t accidentally set on fire.  _You’d never live that down_.

Della sends you a cheery smile when she sees you approach the Slytherin table, patting the seat beside her.

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” she coos teasingly as you help yourself to some toast. “Get enough sleep last night? Maybe you and Peter shouldn’t have  _studied_  so late into the night.”

“What exactly are you implying Della Marie Nott?” you ask her archly. Widening your eyes and smoothing your features into a picture of perfect innocence you continue, “I hope you aren’t suggesting we did anything inappropriate, because that would be really _very embarrassing_  especially as it isn’t true.”

She rolls her eyes, scowling. Reaching for the glass of water, she pouts, “Oh, you never let me have any fun.”

“No, that’s Markus’s job,” you reply sweetly, laughing when she starts to cough mid-sip. From a little down the table, Markus’s shout in protest can be heard.

“Get stuffed, Y/l/n,” she says, but it’s without malice and setting her glass down, she wipes her mouth. “So, what are we getting dear old Peter for Yule season?”

“That’s a secret, you big blabbermouth.”

“I resent that statement,” she replies. Frowning, she insists, “I can keep secrets!”

“Oh I’m sure you can,” you affirm. “Rest assured, Dell, there’s no one more secretive than you - well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration - but when it comes to Peter and me, you tend to get overexcited. Anyway, it’s a surprise.”

“Is this my punishment for meddling?” she asks sulkily. You smile complacently at her.

“Now you get it. Come on, I have to return Peter’s essay before DADA.”

The two of you stand up and make your way over to the Gryffindor table. You spot Liz, who shoots you a warm smile and you return it, noting to yourself to make sure you send her a box of Honeydukes’ finest.

“Hello Peter Parker and Ned Leeds,” you chirp, placing a hand on the former’s shoulder as you stop behind him and send a cheery smile to the latter sitting across the table.

Ned takes on an exaggerated posh accent, replying in the same manner, “Y/n Y/l/n, Della Nott. How are we this beautiful morning?”

“We’re absolutely splendid, thank you, Mr Leeds,” Della trills, and you can hear the amusement in her voice as she and Ned carry on the conversation. You lean down to kiss Peter’s cheek and retrieve his essay from your bag, neatly folded and charmed to prevent crumpling.

He sighs in relief, eyes closing briefly as he leans back into you. “You’re a lifesaver. I honestly thought I’d lost it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, love,” you apologise, the term of endearment slipping from your lips offhandedly and your eyes widen when you realise.

“Love, huh?” he says, grinning and those honey brown eyes twinkle with amusement. You weakly shrug.

“If I say instinct will you tease me terribly?”

His smile softens from one of hilarity into one that is more affectionate, dare you say it, intimate. “I like love,” is all he says, nonchalant as he leans down to kiss your hand.

Della has to tug on the strap of your bag, bringing you back down to earth and you part ways with the boys, squeezing Peter’s shoulder before you do. As the two of you walk away, Della remarks, “You know, the two of you are disgustingly adorable and at times it’s more disgusting than it is adorable. Like now. Disgusting. And I say that as someone  _in_  a relationship.”

You flick her in the temple and her protests carry out through the hall all the way to DADA.

* * *

December 21st falls on a Friday, and though the Black Lake is frozen over, the waters run deep and the ice doesn’t do much to affect the inhabitants of the lake. You catch a peek at a mermaid that trails past your window, gleaming silver tail brushing against the pane as its sunken yellow eyes gleam back at you through the dark water.

You pocket Peter’s gift before you leave for the Great Hall for breakfast, stomach aflutter with butterflies as you think of his possible reactions. Will he like it? Is it too much? Not enough? Shaking your head you take a breath and gripping the box a little tighter within the fold of your outer robe, you walk into the Hall.

The scent of cinnamon and gingerbread linger in the air, the hall warmed by the roaring fire whose logs crackle in the heat. You take a moment to breathe it all in, closing your eyes and memorising it all. Somehow, even with the fire, the smell of the crisp winter day mingles with the other scents, fresh and cold and perfect, snow falling from the enchanted ceiling.

When you open your eyes it’s to the sight of Peter Parker sitting at the one table extended for the few staying over the holidays, bundled in a thick jumper and a woollen cap sitting atop his head, stray hairs poking out from underneath the thing. He’s fiddling with his camera as he waits, running his fingers over the sides and inspecting it closely.

You make your way over to sit beside him, an extra bounce in your step as you slide onto the bench and gently bump his shoulder with yours.

“Morning, love,” you murmur, and he turns to look at you, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“You’re up!” he exclaims, and you can hear the giddiness in his voice, see it in the way he’s practically vibrating.

“I am,” you confirm and lean in to kiss him. “Happy holidays, Peter. If I’m being honest, I’m thrilled I get to spend them with you.”

“Me too,” he confesses, his smile sort of breathless with elation.

“So, what are we doing today?” you ask, buttering your toast and looking back at him inquisitively.

“I thought we could, uh,” Peter starts, and then chuckles, a pretty pink tinting his cheeks. You nod to encourage him, swallowing your toast. “Well, if you’re up for it, we could have a snow day. It’d be fun, I think, ‘cause we’ve been so busy with school but now we’re free and it’s the perfect weather for it.”

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your response with what you see is a hint of nervousness and hope in his eyes. A slow smile curls your lips and you beam at him.

“I love it,” you declare, squeezing his arm. “I suppose we could head to the kitchens after and get warmed up with hot chocolate.”

“What are we waiting for, then? C’mon.” Peter takes your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you from your seat and out of the hall, skidding to a halt at the doors and almost slipping on the frosty stone floor.

The two of you stand in the doorway, hand in hand and you hope you never forget this moment. The world outside is pure white, picture perfect and coated thickly in unblemished snow. The sun’s glare is muted behind thick clouds, snowflakes drifting downwards, silver and white. When you turn to look at Peter, his nose and cheeks are pink, the harsh winter winds nipping and caressing every inch of exposed skin.

There’s that scent again, that the ice carries. Crisp, and fresh that you think somehow breathes new life into your lungs.

You look at Peter’s camera, hanging by his side and a thought occurs to you. Murmuring under your breath, you watch as the object lifts up and levitates in front of you. Pressing into his side, you gaze up at the boy beside you and say,

“What is it Muggles say? Say cheese?”

The two of you share a grin just as the flash goes off, capturing the moment for what you hope is forever.

_And what a perfect moment it is._

* * *

“You’re not allowed to use magic, that’s cheating!” Peter sputters through a faceful of snow, half laughing as he staggers back to the wall of snow he’s constructed, trying to avoid the snowballs you’ve charmed to attack him.

“You weren’t complaining when I used it on Flash!” you yell back, dodging a poorly shaped snowball that falls apart mid flight. Shaking your head, you wait for a response but to your confusion, the only sounds you can pick up on are the creaking and groaning of the trees under the weight of the snow. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirps.

You’re debating whether or not to peak your head out from your hiding spot behind a large boulder when there’s a loud shout and you’re tackled by a large weight.

“Ha! Silencing charm works wonders!” Peter gloats and you can’t help but laugh as you push at his chest, arms trapped under him.

“Get  _off_ , you oaf,” you giggle and he gasps, leaning down so his face is inches from yours.

“I’m not an oaf!” he protests and you raise a brow sceptically as best you can with a teenage boy sized weight pressing down on your chest. He grins impishly at you. “‘Sides, I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll stay here a while.”

“Can’t…breathe…” you huff out, though there’s still traces of laughter in your words. He simply rolls his eyes.

“Drama queen.” He mutters, pushing himself up off and lying beside you. You shiver as you sit up, ice falling down the back of your jumper and you cast Peter a cross look but the hint of a smile on your lips betrays you. He simply looks amused, following suit and pulling you closer.

“Hey, what’s that?”

You look over to where Peter’s pointing and your eyes grow wide in alarm, spotting the small box you were sure had been safe in your pocket. It lays in the snow a few feet away, bright red ribbon and dark case obvious against its white background.

You quickly summon the box, inspecting it for any damage and breathe a sigh of relief when you find it unharmed. The ribbon is soaked, but you’re more thankful it’s just that, thanking Merlin you remembered to cast a protection charm on the box.

“I suppose now is a good time as any,” you breathe out, laughing nervously as you thrust the box into his hands, wincing as you hear muffled clinking within the box.  _Please don’t be broken, please don’t be broken_.

Peter gives you a funny look, as if he’s unsure of whether to be amused or confused. You wave your hand toward the box and watch apprehensively as he tugs at the red ribbon gently, undoing the bow and lifting the velvet lid and setting it aside. He gazes at the small glass phials, filled with swirling silver wisps, and then back up at you.

“Memories,” he mutters, in a voice tinged with confusion.

“Happy holidays, Peter,” you whisper, grinning softly up at him. “I was so torn about what to give you. They’re a collection of moments we spent together, some of them are big, others are smaller but still as important, you know? I labelled them, there, you can see and the pensieve is back in my dorm and we can get that when we go back inside and oh Merlin, I’m rambling, um..”

Your cheeks are warm and you sneak a look at Peter from beneath your eyelashes, to find him looking at you, lips curved upwards into a soft smile and eyes suspiciously misty. He swipes at them with the back of his gloved hands and sets the lid back on, careful not to jostle the box, before he cups your face between his hands and kisses you.

You shut your eyes, resting your forehead against his and hum when he pulls away, bumping his nose against yours.

“I love it. Thank you,” he whispers, voice thick with earnest emotion and brown eyes so expressive you have to lean in and kiss him once more.

“That relieves me quite a bit,” you confess, chuckling when he pecks your mouth. He looks back at the box, mouth curved upwards and then to you.

“You’re trembling,” he comments, shaking his head and clambering to his feet, hand outstretched for you to grab onto. “C’mon, there’s a cup of hot chocolate with your name on it…but first…”

He digs around his pocket and retrieves his wand, thankfully still intact after his smart little stunt, and gives it a complicated little wave, pointing at your clothes and then repeating on himself as hot air streams out of the end and steams your robes as they begin to dry.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” you laugh as the two of you, hand in hand, trudge up the hill back to Hogwarts.

It’s when you’re huddled up together by one of the fireplaces in the kitchen that Peter takes your left hand, fingers tracing over the curves and and ridges and turning it over to map out the lines of your palm. You think nothing of it, laying your head on his shoulder and so comfortable against him you feel your eyelids drooping, until you hear a soft sound of metal scraping and a sudden coldness against your wrist. When you look down you inhale sharply and your eyes flit up to Peter, who looks at you the way he always has, brown eyes full of tender affection and so intense you find it hard to breathe.

The chain around your wrist is simple and thin, silver, but what makes it stand out is the blue white hue of the beautiful moonstone circle. It’s gorgeous and you feel the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes when you all but fling your arms around him, nose pressing into the crook of his neck. His arms come up around you and you pull away only to cradle his face in your hands and pepper kisses all over his face, eliciting a laugh from him.

“I’ll cherish it forever,” you promise him, trying your damndest to express to him just how much you mean it but words can only do so much and so you settle for hoping he understands.

He does.

When you go to bed that night, you brush your fingers lightly over the surface of the moonstone, the gem just about opalescent in the moonlight that casts a glow in the empty dorm room.

It’s a simple gift, not extravagant or gaudy like those you’d often seen on the wealthier purebloods, ones you yourself owned that you had tucked away in the drawers of your jewellery boxes, gifts from foreign lands brought back by your parents after trips.

And yet, you think with a warm heart, it means more to you than any of the others ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's up motherfleckers i realised i hadn't kept this up to date and i'm terribly sorry if anyone is still/even reading this but here we go!


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